Author of quotes: Yuri Vizbor

... Exactly twenty-four hours I was at the hotel Cheget in the Caucasus mountains. The moon was rising from behind the peak andyrchi. Perevalivaetsya over the crest of the clouds, illuminated by the moon were as white as ghosts. Over the Pereval Chiper-Azau was opened from behind the clouds, the lamp of Venus, surrounded by a bright halo. At a low altitude over the mountains quickly and silently passed the artificial satellite. A breeze wandered through the tops of pine trees, roaring river. In nature was in order. She never changed, but never loved anyone.

... the typist Marina - the dandy and wild, absolutely fantastic brunie. When she spoke: "Hello, my name's Marina", was no doubt that one of the four words was a lie.

Hope is the desire to cheat. In fact, hope is a hoax.

That's the life we are fools, teaches will take to pull all this, all the shouting around: "Bravo! Right! Just a little bit, and we'll run over there, help!" Then you see - no one, alone. But then you get used. And it turns out, what strap this is the content of life. And all the talk about it, and everyone in the family about it, too.

... Are we going by trolley № 23. He stops at Stoleshnikov lane, the store "Fur". Outside the window - the crucified skin of a wolf, black-brown foxes, curled up, hats from rabbits and Karakul. It was evening, and in the window lit the light. "The store is dead," said my daughter. She could not forgive humanity, no guns, no bombs, no death as a system. Then, when both my ex-wives separated me from my daughter - one of the high and noble considerations ("that scoundrel will never see my daughter!"), and the second due to the unbearable, painful jealousy, I would often come to her kindergarten and standing in the shade of a tree, seen from a distance, as in the funny ranks of red, blue, pink caps floats and her chicken hat for protection from the wind from the inside lined with silk. I felt that my daughter misses me. I didn't just know, and feel. We were not separated, neither the miles nor the oceans, nor snow. We were separated passion, the horrifying cruelty of the characters, a desire to make little of a man born for the good, the evil instrument of revenge. Never, until death I will not be able to forgive that neither, nor both of these women, my former wives, whom I loved and who swore to me eternal love. <...> "I have to go to the window - I thought, - there, where crucified the gray wolf rolled over in a ball of black-brown Fox. To shop the dead". So I was thinking about myself, and it was true. I have been killed. What was left of me, it was a different person.

North - place of the brave ships.

Once again I want to remember the beautiful words of the writer and climber Stanislaw LEM: "Every man should know that others will not leave him under any circumstances".
And to add: even the dead.

And by the way - smiled Elena, the life and consists of melodramas, skits, musical comedies. Sometimes - even a skit. Petty feelings, small genres.

... if you want to become a real sailor, that dream can only be the sea. The sea itself, and not marine salary.

I can't tell you - don't be stupid, this advice is already too late. But I can tell you - don't be ridiculous.

- Her past, her husband was something serious, ' said Glory. - Something like love. In such situations bad to be second. Best third.
It is all figured out! - I asked.
"I will," replied Glory. - Yes, and it's obvious! The second drops all the responsibility, he doesn't look like the first. Or Vice versa like. Compare it. It is always not good enough. It is not so spanks Slippers as the previous one. Chew with some crunch (the chewing might be more disgusting, but native). Both did not wash himself after the bathroom, but that doesn't wash the second is annoying because he resembles the first. And so on. Next to divorce. A year Madam lives alone, and now she both seem to be the villains - the first who abandoned her, and second, who threw it. Here, when the longing reaches its climax, there is a third. This modest companion with a barely emerging bald spot. Physicist practitioner-theorist, a member of the voluntary people's squads. Here he will remove the whole harvest from a field where he faithfully worked for two of the shock worker.

I have forgotten a lot. My memory is like a fishing net, eager to protect themselves, if raised from the bottom too heavy and gloomy boulders of memories.

Well, Bob - academician of the women. From him still alive no one left. If he goes it, hi hot.

... true love is terrible. Terrible as well as terrible all real values of life: mothers, children, the ability to see, ability to think - in short, everything that you can really lose.