Author of quotes: Dino Buzzati

Time does not stand still, not caring about the people, it sweeps over the world, deadening all that was beautiful; and no one can escape from it.

Time sped quickly to the fact that his soul did not have time to grow old. And although a vague anxiety about the irrevocably lost with each passing day, declares himself stronger, he stubbornly refuses to abandon the illusion that the most important thing is still ahead. He is patiently waiting in the wings, which does not come, he does not think that the future was terribly shortened, that it is not the same as before, when it seemed almost infinite - a sort of inexhaustible wealth that can be spent without regard.

Hard to believe in something when you are alone and can not be anyone to share their thoughts.

And now come the cold... Time inexplicably speeds up all of your running, swallowing day by day. Before you know it - the night comes, the sun goes around the earth on the other side and rise again to illuminate the snow-covered world.

What a joy to live here, not counting the hours, seeking oblivion in sleep without the fear of going late, and quietly waiting for the sunrise, enjoy the idea that there is still infinitely a lot of time that you have nothing to worry about.

Winter is the most tedious time of the year.

Vague disappointment, and that is when the most important hours of his life pass by without hitting us, and the rumbling fades away and we stand alone among vzvihrennyh dry leaves, regretting the fact that I missed the dangerous but glorious moment.

Sunset - the hour of hope.

Maybe in real life this way: we believe that all around us people are the same as we are, but instead only cold, only stones, with their strange language. I want to shake the hand of a friend, but your outstretched hand falls limp and the smile goes off: it turns out that next to nobody and you're alone.

Ordinary human life has its stingy gift - short-youth - the years of her a handful, and will sweep them so fast, and won't notice.

Beginners are always lucky. Everyone goes through this - everyone thinks that he is an outstanding player, and was a novelty... with time, and the rest mastered his techniques, and one day he has nothing.

Time still goes to your imperceptible pace, the same for all - no more slow for happy and more rapid for the unfortunate.

There is now, perhaps, spreading a thin veil of mist and lights pour a little yellowish light on the empty streets darken the silhouettes of the couple shining lights glazed the portal of the Opera, heard cries of coachmen, hovering echoes of violin music and laughter from the dark entrances can hear women's voices, of unimaginable height among the maze of rooftops light box - a lovely city, it keeps the dreams of youth and promising unexplored adventure.

Nightfall - the hour when fears leave the peeling walls, and sorrow mitigated, when the soul, proudly waving his wings, rises over the sleeping humanity.