Quotes from books. Page 4

The gods do not pay for their misdeeds. Mortals pay. The gods, like the powers that be, use for their schemes those whose voices are not loud enough to stand up for themselves. Women. Weak. Unwanted. And no one will stand up for those who need it most. Why would anyone do that? Standing up for someone else means risking losing something yourself. But a person cannot look into the thickness of the water through his reflection.

Trust does not require answers. Trust requires acceptance.

Connell laughed for no reason, only because his excitement needed an outlet, but it was impossible to cry.

Many lush, proud flowers bloomed in the garden, and the less fragrant they were, the more important they became. The peonies were puffing out their cheeks - they all wanted to become bigger than the roses; Is it really a matter of size? There was no one more colorful and elegant than tulips, they knew this very well and tried to stay as straight as possible in order to be more conspicuous. None of the proud flowers noticed the small daisy growing somewhere near the ditch.

Chamomile looked at the happy fluttering songbird with some special respect, but did not envy her at all and was not sad that she herself could neither fly nor sing. I

All the children sat quietly on the school benches and learned from their teachers; our chamomile also sat quietly on its stem and learned from the clear sun and from all the surrounding nature, learned to recognize the goodness of God.

Chamomile didn’t care at all that she was such a poor, simple flower that no one sees or notices in the thick grass; no, she was happy with everything, greedily reached out to the sun, admired it and listened to the lark singing somewhere high, high in the sky.

I would give away a full cup of oatmeal (horrible disgusting!) if someone explained to me why autumn, why winter? The alley has such impassable mud that I have only seen under a rhinoceros in a zoological garden. Wet. Bare branches clap against each other and sneeze.

There is no one in the house. A dog wind blows in all the cracks (why a dog wind?). In general, the wind is a fool: it blows in a bare park, and there’s nothing there to pick. In the yard I still deal with it somehow: I’ll stand with my back to the wind, my head down, my legs apart - and “I don’t give a damn,” as the gardener says. And you can’t hide anywhere from this bandit in the room. He bursts from under the door, through the window cracks, through the fireplace hole, and squeaks, and whines, and howls, as if his mother were a dog. He has no muzzle, no throat, no belly, no backside. I can’t figure out what he’s blowing...

I came up with a thing. It’s very embarrassing, but what can you do? You have to eat. When the rain subsides, I sometimes run to a nearby place to visit a familiar baster maker. In the evenings he dances to the gramophone. They dance the foxtrot. Must be a dog dance. I’ll stand on my hind legs, pull up my stomach, spin around and nod my head. All the couples will stop dancing... They will gather in a circle and laugh so hard that you can’t hear the gramophone. And they order me such a portion of meat that I can barely get home. Moreover, I’ll bring a veal bone in my teeth for breakfast... That’s how much you have to humiliate yourself for the sake of hunger!

It happens that detective authors, following the example of their characters, do not leave any traces in literature.

Kittens! Tell me please!... Their mother, a cunning creature, disappears in the park for the whole day: she sniffs and is gone, like a mosquito in a Christmas tree. And I have to play with her children... One licks my nose. I licked it too, although for some reason my teeth suddenly clicked... The other one was sucking my ear. Am I his mother, or what? The third climbs onto my back and scratches me as if they were scraping me with a grater. Rrrrrr! Hush, Mickey, hush... Zina laughs and chokes: you, she says, are their cousin.

I firmly believe that laughter improves health and prolongs life. A minute of laughter means a person lives a day longer. On average, our carpet workers are in the arena for thirty minutes per evening. So, after laughing at one performance, people extend their lives by a month. It is no coincidence that an ancient eastern proverb says: “One clown coming to a city gives people more health than a hundred donkeys loaded with medicine.”