Author of quotes: Nina Shervashidze. Page 2

It seems that with age we become more tender. Strange feelings awaken.

Many humiliate alcoholics and drug addicts. But there is one "but" - no one has ever asked the questions "Why did they become so?", "What caused the unwakened drunkenness?". And here everything is simple: most often these people have a deep trauma. Such people scream at night in a dream, and then get tired of having nightmares. Hiding behind a drunken mist is like cowardice. But sometimes this is the only way out for a person. During the day, thoughts about all this can be tolerated, they interfere with work, household chores. But at night, when you lie alone in an empty bed, the night destroys you.

In the morning I thought to lay hands on myself. And here is your favorite movie and cake. Still, in this life there is something worth fighting for!

When we are very scared, when we want to tell about something that you cannot trust to anyone else, we go to our loved ones.

How much it seems to us, but so little lives up to expectations. The cool night with light snow was able to calm down, relieve stress. The pain inside went away from the coolness, and the dusk, combined with Billy Boyd's melody, involuntarily drove into a drowsiness. Just for the sake of this it is worth growing, working, buying a car in order to get out alone and feel this feeling of incomparable loneliness. The sound of nature, the smell of fresh snow. Indeed, in our cruel century - the 21st century - there are almost no people left with whom you can go for a run in the morning and argue with whom you can be silent, with whom you can dream. Dream about what will never be: about the White City or about the eternal to think. What topics are always relevant? Books, the very first editions of books. This topic is so interesting, full of irony, tenderness, but it is eternal and interesting. And how few of those with whom you can lie on the green grass and watch the clouds swarm in the sky. No, it could be anything but love. A friend you want to dream with. And see how the clouds change shape, clouds that sometimes look like a thick white ship, and sometimes like a dark castle of ghosts. There are even fewer people with whom you can describe words of love on the first snow. And think only about that person. How blind and strange people are - they learn to appreciate those they have only after they feel the pain of loss. Slowly the new moon and the first rays of the sun, as if fighting among themselves, expose the winner - dawn. A bluish sky, heavy, but so beautiful, overshadowed by darkness, but part of it owns the light. Eyes involuntarily drop to the clock. Early morning. Alas, that day has passed, and no one knows what this one is preparing.

They say you want to be remembered by a girl - be her first. If you want to be remembered by a man - become his last. Lies! If you want to be remembered by a woman, have sex with her from the bottom of your heart!

There is time to sleep - you need to sleep, there is time to devour - you need to eat. And don't show off!

Why? Explain! If a girl is in a tight dress or T-shirt, then she is immediately a whore. Staggers - drunk, cries - weak, does not cry - a bitch. Women wear minis and T-shirts, yes, but more often they do it for men. To please them, to make them feel good and good. A woman staggers sometimes from fatigue, but not from drinking. Tears flow not from love, but when it really hurts when you lose a loved one. Emotionless - not a bitch, no, it means that emotions and strength are no more. So what the hell do men use girls like a thing?

Still, it's true, memory is a strange thing. You don't remember where you were a month ago, what you ate yesterday, but you remember some specific places, and these places can calm you down at any time. In these places, you sacrifice your mind to memories, and memories can either warm you up or slowly destroy you. Depends on what happens faster. Be that as it may, if you go to a place where something special happened: first sex, kiss, friendship, or your face was sewn up there - memories will cover you. But people are masochistic by nature, they may not go to that place, but again and again they are drawn there. This is our life. At least write your memoirs.

Why do single people like to walk at night? For many, this is a mystery, but the answer is simple: at night the streets are empty and no one needs you, as well as during the day. But at night you can find an excuse for this - everyone is asleep. And in the afternoon what to do? To go, to see how lovers coo, how parents run after children. Like someone running to work. These are terrible, but at the same time ordinary pictures of every metropolis. Therefore, it is better like a cat, a killer to go out at night. Walking slowly through the previously busy streets, but now dead, like your soul. Dark, like the blood that flowed through the veins of your victims. It's both pleasure and pain.
Now far after midnight, the streets are empty, only fine snow with raindrops hit the asphalt. Parking the car on the corner of Piccadilly, the Italian slowly walked through the dark city, which was illuminated by lanterns. She had headphones in her ears, freddie Mercury's pleasant voice soothing her soul. Icy hands were in their pockets and the streets were empty.
At night, the city seems to have died, although who knows what happens at night in people's bedrooms? Who knows, maybe in that off window lies on the bed some person, emitting a spirit, and with him sit his children, grandchildren. They sit and wait. But they are not waiting for a doctor, not for helping him. People are greedy by nature - they are waiting for their money. Maybe somewhere on the other end of foggy Albion in agony was born a new life? Maybe some teenage girl in one of the high-rise buildings quietly cried into the pillow so as not to wake her parents, because the heart experienced the first torment. The flour of first love. Maybe now at this very moment some guy was sitting in a social network trying to write a classmate a declaration of love, but was afraid that he would be laughed at. And someone at the same time saves someone's life. Maybe knowing that this person is going to die. But he doesn't back down. Believes. Maybe right now some person, whether it's an adult or, conversely, a teenager. Loner. Wolf. Creates a "left page" on some site based on his favorite novel. Could be... He believes that in this way he will be saved from the loneliness that burns through his childish soul. Or a naive soul. Maybe he will be lucky, and he will not be alone. Maybe he will find his family online. And if not? What will happen to this person? Will he be able to come to terms with the emptiness of life or, on the contrary, burying pain, he will sit on drugs, cigarettes. He will slowly die, like the rest of us. Who knows, maybe in the other side of the planet now someone is in a hurry to work. Someone laughs at someone else's trouble. Some classmate breaks the psyche of a classmate. Who knows what might be now.
But it is the night that is the mistress of the world. It is the night that rules the lives of wolves. It is the night that gives space to dream. It is the night that destroys us. It's night. Here it is - a cold street of the night foggy Albion. Here it is - a kind smile, which we give out during the day. Here it is - life. And no music, whether it's the Beatles or Queen... nothing will save you from loneliness. In a noisy metropolis. In huge London.

Alcohol, plus a desire for revenge, plus an understanding friend - necessarily equal BOOM!

I don't believe in God, but you ... YOU, who created the playboy, male massage therapists, erotica and the magazine "World of Fantasy". And YOU, the one who created my work, my boss and Adam. At least now, help me survive. I don't want to die.

The bride pretends to be a virgin, the groom pretends not to cheat. And the parents of both sides pretend to like each other. A holiday of liars. Although beautiful.

Do not argue with a woman in love - it will hurt.