Book: Justine. Page 1

A strange feeling was aroused by her beauty; she was like born to become the object of destruction.

I noticed that, causing someone annoyance, I cause the same feeling in ourselves. I'm single now, and I have no one to bring except myself. Happiness!

There is in this world people born for self-destruction, and any reasonable arguments are powerless.

Somewhere in the heart of the experience hidden order, correspondences, and we will grasp it, if we are sufficiently attentive, sufficiently patient and if we love enough. There will come such a time?

The world is like a cucumber: today you have it in hand, and tomorrow in the ass.

The memory is only pain and eats: the joy of self-sufficient ends in themselves.

Rip from the book the essence, as the fingers of the crumb of a loaf.

We are for each other - axes to cut the roots of those who truly love.

... Slightly distracted expression, as the muses suffering from constipation...

For God's sake, do not need excuses! Then I'll know that we made a mistake!

Poverty hits the hands, and the wealth locks the door.

We parted without saying a word, in a small public garden, where the sun painted the slowly dying trees in coffee color; broke just after exchanging a glance, as if forever in each other to stay.

... Hatred is only nedovoljna love.

Thank God I'm not a genius - for a genius has nobody to rely on.