Book: The shelter of heroes

The pathologist, although he was a fan, but for the love of the land did not take work home...

I had a lot of unfinished businesses,
And worries, and troubles - it is!
All things in fate, I succeeded as I wanted:
At the pub, and tobacco, and cognac.

Faith she can move mountains... forehead rested, Naturita and moves...

Youth, problems of growth, a pain of perfectionism, driven into the young ass to the hilt...

Namolennye - first prayer about changing reality. Otherwise, there is no need to fall at the feet of the idol, crying, lamenting or thanks. Give me money! - I have no money, and I want to be. Give me back health! - I was stronger than oak, and has become stunted blade of grass, and I don't like it. Smite my enemy! - I myself am not, and hate looking out... Change the world around me, as I desire, at your command...
Another reality swirled around the sacred idol.

Most people accustomed to plan everything in advance in detail. Spend a month in estimation. Spread out on shelves, stuffed in the cabinets, glue the plates to look at the slender ranks of prospects to tap combinations of links in the chain and wipe my sweat. People tend to be deceived, seeing in the invincibility of the future plans of the invincibility of the future, this is what they came up with their vanity. But then, when fate playfully gives click a house of cards... when the future shows a long and wet tongue, becoming real, but in the ranks plans driving a wedge mess about, then they suffocate it with anxiety, panic fuss, and did not take in the sense: for that!
So good, so fresh was plans!

Teacher of fencing point out that it's harder to fight without pants, naked - and at the brink of a feat.

Autumn cemetery is a sight of special. Royal purple and subtle gold foliage, the Royal funeral for the fly on the background of solemn severity evergreen TUI - true cemetery mourners. Grey granite tombstones, bronze memorial inscriptions, smoky marble obelisks, black basalt monument, modest tuff memorial plates. The severity of the alleys and colors, flash chococino of passion and spilled in the air sadness. Cemeteries most of all is autumn. Isn't spring a riot of life, the seeming shame in resting places, not the sultry languor of summer, not even winter shroud - autumn, the threshold of oblivion.

Love these, buttoned the coat all buttoned up. Otherwise, shy.

I have an extremely clear head and warm heart. Oh, and clean hands because I wash them often.

It is better to live near the castle of the necromancers, and to pay no taxes than... Well, you know.

- Buddy, you wanna hear a story?
- No! No! Do not want!!!
- And have my friend...

Looking at red Baron reminded himself that the jewel is hidden in the slimy flesh of the mollusk. What is the lesson you can get from a passerby. What philosophers are right in many ways... what is right philosophers, to think he did not.

Guilt no longer become the grapes. Not to ripen on the vine, not to enjoy the sun and good weather. Not to whisper with the leaves and wind.
But the wine can be hit in the head.