Author of quotes: Zoya Zhuravleva

And ALL never to be repaid. They don't appreciate it. They even that do not respect the parents. They even like that my parents left me something. However, I do not understand this parental hysteria: to give! to give! Then to blame - I gave everything, and you so-sort of...

No wonder we went to the Museum. Discovered new. The main thing after all not even to see something new. It's just another. This is the number. But much more important, something new in yourself to feel that the soul is moved by pain and understanding. This is another quality.

Because of the kind words said in time, sometimes suddenly turns human life.

Look how much this bench legs? suddenly mom said.
Asya looked. It was, without a doubt four, but Asya had seen two now and it seemed that no more.
"Two," said Asya.
"Exactly," something happy mom. - The artist can see the horse has two legs. Or, for example, eighteen. And everything will be true. It all depends on point of view. From their own eyes.
Asya realized that the mother, in fact, not her who is talking. Maybe with myself? But ACE was still nice so equitable and easy to talk with her mom, so she replied solidly:
- And I say that horses have four legs!
- I can say - my mum sighed, thinking. But artists, by the way, it never stopped...

But mom told ACE, as poppies in the desert, suddenly a sudden after rain the sand, instant as a bright flash, violently obsessed with the transience of their lives on one single day. We must learn from these poppies fullness and generosity of expression...

We acquire awful things... Things we survive directly from home. Require upgrading, repair, replacement, and drive to the shops and eat the salary. Unnecessary things have just eaten, because we do not know how to part with them. Time to break up. Limit yourself to things. To make your life more mobile and more spacious.

I remember that I was sick with the disease - to be Your friend. Oh, how vague those days, and how far, so funny when I was sick and You deep.

My soul stands on tiptoe, all reaching for something high, and she always look tired, so white, silent, lonely, and something's always not understand, maybe you think you can be a Saint... Oh, how it bothered me, her - anything - just don't matter...