Author of quotes: Stefan Zweig. Page 4

A partial answer doubles the interest.

Now I know <...> variable for men face girl, woman, because often it is only a mirror reflecting the passion, the child's whim, the mental fatigue, and blurred, fading from memory as easily as a reflection in the mirror; therefore, a man difficult to know a woman, if have the years changed her face a play of light and shade, if clothes were created for her new frame.

One who is filled with joy, not observation: lucky - bad psychologists. The only worry is extremely sharpens the mind, only the feeling of danger forces you to be vigilantly observant and.

Honestly men is always a woman railing that it sticks before fall.

Is the narrow definition of "game" is not an insult to chess? However, this is not science, and not art, rather, something in between, floating between the two concepts, just as it hovers between heaven and earth is the sepulchre of Mohammed. This game combines the most contradictory concept: it is ancient and ever new; mechanical in its basis, but victorious only one who has imagination; limited tight geometric space - and at the same time, limitless in their combinations; continuously developing and fruitless; thought without output, math, and art without works of architecture without the stone. And yet, this game has stood the test of time better than all books and works of people, this is the only game that belongs to all peoples and all eras, and no one knows the name of the deity who brought it to earth to dispel the boredom, to Refine the mind, encourage the soul. Where its beginning and where is the end?

Enough, however, to reflect a bit and to make it clear that in chess, as a purely mental game, where randomness is excluded, the game against himself is absurd. The beauty of chess is, in essence, primarily in the fact that the strategy of the game is simultaneously in the minds of two different people, and each of them chooses his own way.

Very easy to consider yourself a great man, if your brain isn't burdened with the slightest suspicion that the world once lived a Rembrandt, Beethoven, Dante, and Napoleon.

Decisive forces - fate and death - rarely come close to the person without warning.

If you want to help you, there is nothing to wag and to conceal.

Inside the still gently gripped at something, but it was a salutary pain so burn wounds before scar forever.

Allow... to be ashamed of prying... the crowd that fishes from Newspapers someone else's misfortune, relishes her and licks... But close-you can admit it...

As it's impossible to help everyone..
- It is necessary to try, - he said and looked at me. Because that live. Just for that...

Only the weak submit and forget, strong is an uproar and cause the unequal fight the all-powerful fate.

... to what extent weak, pathetic and pitiful that we're mean-spirited so called soul, spirit, feeling what we call suffering, if it cannot destroy tradeshow flesh, exhausted body, if you can survive the times and still breathe, is to die, to crash, like a tree struck by lightning.