Author of quotes: Dmitry Bykov

Dreaming about the reliability of the family
Forgetting about the ravings of children, young gossip,
My favorite girls
Marry forty-year.
They call to warn me, -
Almost like a friend or brother
They smile asking to go
But happy somehow to blame.
There is a choice of: house-mountain house-hole.
The hole where the pen is scratching and crying children.
I can give you? And you have:
Written By Werther. Do not hold. Go.
So be it. He's right. You're with him. You are. We do not.
Goodbye. I'll be the shadows as quietly.
Someday I will be forty years.
I meet my twenty years.
I meet the gaze of her bottomless eyes.
It will not take them. It will come.
And a boy born now -
About our destiny! - would hate me.
Forgive me, o young man! I'm sorry!
Don't hang around in Moscow, don't hit the bottle,
Manage to hold despair in his hand
And don't throw curses in her head:
All these are they! So be it. I'm right.
Their job is to tear the throat in family quarrels,
And our destiny is to eat the sleeve
And wait, when we're forty.
Oh boy! Find quite a force
Not to sakonnet in despair and rage,
To forgive her, I forgave her
And move on, Zahraa on both
To leave home in the dripping darkness
In unnecessary new "Alaska"
And write a message to
Who driguet noontime in a wheelchair.

Art is distinguished from life that art is dysfunctional. For example, if the book has many characters, some of which then disappears with no intention and no longer needed, passed, passed a package that fell, - this book does not spoil. On the contrary, it creates greater sense of living space. If the book on the stage hangs a gun, it is in any case should not shoot. If the character it is reported that he is the decorator, the main thing - not to give him to write of the scenery.
In life, on the contrary, it is not so, because in the book the future in the form of the second volume may not occur at all, but in real life have nowhere to go. In life, if someone sends a package, it's a note about where hangs a gun. And it must shoot as soon as the decorator will be convinced that because of unrequited love, he cannot write any more decorations. Everything in life is inevitably brought to a single solution, to the desired result; in the book, accidents happen, but in life - ever.

Bob anything not surprised, but surprised.
- You want me pulled out her missing testimony?
Gorelov could be argued, solnecinaia, but he was an honest fellow.
- Why not, he said.
- Unless he is not convicted? - asked Boris. - It is already sitting, continue to sit.
- No, that's impossible. We don't put people in prison unjustly. Everything has to be right.
- That is, it is necessary to make a statement?
- Why fabricate? Let's say, to get. The goal of all psychotherapy is that the perpetrator himself explained the guilt. He had found her. If the patient lives with implicit guilt, our duty to find its source.
- If the patient is not to blame?
- Funny, - has told Gorelov. - We're with you modernists. Wine is a key concept of modernity. Innocent no. The status of guilt - the most creative, the most high. We all do and blame all curable.

... because we are modern people, we run from prescribed emotion. When one of the friends dies, we experience a disappointment from the loss of a valuable frame, but only just; when we die, we are immortal in business; it is pointless to breed the snot on the biology in addition to biology nothing. Literature is the sum of techniques, the love is the sum of the needs of society is the sum of free individuals, everything from the evil one, either.

War rescued by Nicholas I, Alexander II, the war was to save the Empire. And never saved, because no one did not solve the problem, and drove deep. Bloodletting was once a favorite method of treatment, it was called "throw up blood"; it really could save you from apoplexy, but not on anything else. The war was a great way to mask the defects under virtue. War washed, translated into the category of feat anything - and stupidity, and meanness, and bloodlust; for the war had all that in civilian life has no meaning. And because they all, not knowing how, longed for the war - a true disaster for those who knew and loved his work. But these, from not knowing how, there was no affair, they did someone else, and because they have been accumulating anger and the only outlet for anger was a war. In war, do not look for blame - blame was assigned; in war, the desire to live was treason, and those who have something to cherish, were declared traitors.

It's amazing, the hottest supporter of suspicious, because, probably, there is a need to dissemble, but a skeptic will not hurt anybody, he is HONEST. In their logic, it is necessary to be honest. In my mind, talent and kindness always suspected sham, and the bad - so true, poor in security. But save you bad when you have to?

- But comrade Draganov! Mike never wanted to understand anything. - I swear that nothing happened, it is impossible to recognize, which means to mislead... because she's about anyone say...
But she said about you, - without any condescension sealed Draganov. And the statement I have for you. And she repeated in front of witnesses. Understand, it does not matter if you're innocent or not. Someday you will understand. Consider it included in the mandatory requirements. What ever anyone needs to be guilty and willingness to accept. You okay? You're not going to hide, when you call? Here, consider yourself encouraged. Everyone must be ready to kill the enemy when it is necessary to cover a commander, if necessary, and plug the hole with his body if necessary. And now you have to say: sorry, I'm terribly guilty. That everyone should be able to do, and you're a bad Komsomolets, if you do not know how. And stuck you in there, did not stick... it is Now clear to you?

The writer does not have to be a thinker, it may be harmful, but have immunity from the simple and crude responses from the conspiracy and xenophobia he would be good. Otherwise his name will be mentioned on a par with murderers, and why should he? The liberal idea is also eating its adherents, and any eats, the artist can't become an Illustrator of his own delusions; it's that liberals don't like prohibitions - although Russian liberals on this part a little inferior to the native soil. The artist must think and understand, not to speak or condemn; his case - to add to the atmosphere of oxygen and light, and not to the curtains or to sing sulfide. Writer, put life into a single consistent theory and began to smash those who disagree with her, stops writing.

While on the surface turmoil, Russian life is moving due to perpetual motion of peasant life and - deeper - thanks to the sanctity of the individual "quiet people" of the righteous, as Solzhenitsyn, or fanatical inventors, like Aksenov. The problem is that this eternity, - they provide for their penance, dirty and unattractive. An eternity, Yes, but fuck, in fact, such an eternity? "The constancy of fun and mud", and the fun, just say problematic.

Neither Christianity nor communism nor any other ideology is no substitute for the ability to live together, to live beyond the rough, dirty, meaningless life, to which they are accustomed, but on a daily basis to create for themselves and others anew. The future of Russia - not in spiritual scrapie, not a return to traditional values, is as artificial as innovative ways of Sleptsovskaya order of life like a commune; life must be filled with the living interest in the person and care about him, life consists of games, creativity, celebration, growth - and not serving their duties.

There are things to make that more than human power; there are things moving which a person loses the desire and strength to live; there is torture, fatal disfiguring the body.

Christian countries, or European, if you will, there is a history of Christian, or European. Russian history - natural, moving itself, for the development of its people do not accept the slightest involvement... our History is a process inextricably linked, cyclic, and all forgive me, revolutionaries help him no more than a man parting a fire on the ice, helping the spring. The ice itself will melt at the right time, and the great revolutionary call someone to make a fire on the ice in the month of March. A coincidence, nothing more.

All Russian do not love yourself, because instinctively become the point of view of the bosses, and the bosses hated them. All they have to find a reason a reason to love yourself a little more, and this was suitable for anything. Now, marching behind the coffin of lucidera, they loved themselves more than when I worked or simply lived; and no one here couldn't just live - I had all the time someone to haunt or bless, and would be better dead, for safety.

Myself, as you know, to classify the hardest - if only because that classification is already humiliating to admit that you belong to a certain type and there are more of you, then have to settle for something unhygienic like to use other's dishes, but in the end, and that you apply General laws like aging, death, neljubimaja.