Author of quotes: Gabriel Troepolsky

But the last wolves are still walking on the ground.

My aunt ran to write a complaint for the insult. And she wrote it to the chairman of the city council, while she accused him no less than dog catchers. She was not responsible for anything, she was not responsible to society for anything, but she demanded responsibility from everyone. The latter was also part of her duties, like any parasite of society.

Amazing creature dog! Here one of the puppies dies at the mother, and she licks his nose, licks his ears, licks, licks endlessly, for a long, long time, massages his tummy. It happens that the puppy comes back to life. And massage is generally considered in dogs an indispensable condition for caring for newborn puppies. This is wonderful and amazing.

... reproach of the dead is the most terrible reproach, because from them there is no forgiveness, no regret, no pity for the repentant sinner who has done evil.

The past is like a dream ... Isn't a dream a real one? Isn't this a dream - yesterday's spring forest with blue on the ground? Well: blue dreams are divinely healing medicine, albeit temporary. Temporary, of course. For even if the writers preached only blue dreams, moving away from the gray color, then humanity would cease to worry about the future, accepting the present as eternal and future. The destiny of doom in time consists in the fact that the present should become only the past. It is not in the power of man to order: "The sun, stop!" Time is unstoppable, unstoppable and inexorable. Everything is in time and movement. And the one who seeks only stable peace is already in the past, whether he is a young guardian of himself or an elderly person - age does not matter. Blue has its own sound, it sounds like peace, oblivion, but only temporary, just for relaxation, such minutes should never be missed.

It happens in late autumn, even after wintering summer will return and catch the outgoing autumn with a fiery tail. And autumn will melt, unsoak and calm down, like an affectionate dog that is stroked by a woman. And then the forest will smell the farewell aroma of fallen foliage, ruby rose hips and barberry amber, tart and spicy as pepper, ungulates, white mushroom, untouched, already collapsed, soaked in water, but still smelly, reminiscent of past weather and flow through the forest smiling good spirit from pine to birch, from birch to oak, and he will respond with mighty smells of force, fortresses of forest and eternity. In the smells of the forest there is something eternal and indestructible, especially palpable in the warm, soft and affectionate farewell last days of the outgoing autumn. She has already freed herself from the tedious rains, the angry attacks of the winter and the meticulous, all the enveloping needles of the ine: everything is gone, everything is in the past. And as if autumn, falling asleep, sees a dream about summer, and we are shown their divine visions in all the greatness of spiritualized beauty and in the life-giving aromas of the earth. Fortunately for the one who managed to absorb all this from childhood and carried through life, without spilling a drop from the vessel of salvation of the soul given by nature!
On such days in the forest, the heart becomes forgiving, but also demanding of itself. Peaceful, you merge with nature. In these solemn moments of dreams of autumn, it is so desirable that there is no untruth and evil on earth. And in the silence of the outgoing autumn, taught by its gentle sled, in the days of short oblivion of the coming winter, you
you begin to understand: only the truth, only honor, only a clear conscience, and about all this - a word. A word to little people who will then be adults, a word to adults who have not forgotten that they were once children.

... O great courage and long-suffering dog! What forces have created you so powerful and indestructible that even in your dying hour you move your body forward? Little by little, but go ahead. Forward, to where there may be trust and kindness to an unhappy, lonely, forgotten dog with a pure heart.

When dogs lose hope, they die naturally - quietly, without murmuring, in suffering unknown to the world. It is not Beam's business and not his ability to understand that if there was no hope at all, not a single drop on earth, then all people would also die of despair. For Beam, everything was simpler: it was very painful inside, but there was no friend, and that's it. As a swan dies after the loss of its beloved, soaring up and throwing itself like a stone, like a crane, having lost its own and only crane, stretches out flat, spreading its wings, and screams, screams, asking for death from the moon, so then Bim: lay, saw in delirium the only one and an irreplaceable friend and was ready for anything, not even realizing this readiness. But now he was silent. There is not a single person on earth who would hear a dog die. The dogs die in silence.

The great good is to believe. And love. A dog without such faith is no longer a dog, but a free wolf or (worse) a stray dog. Of these two possibilities, each dog chooses if he has ceased to believe the owner and left him or if he was expelled. But woe to the dog who loses a loved one friend of a person, will look for him, wait. She then can no longer be a free wolf or an ordinary stray dog, but will remain the same dog, loyal and faithful to a lost friend, but lonely for the rest of her life.

The dead do not pass away from the lives of those who loved them, the dead just do not grow old, remaining in the heart of the living as they left.

If I were a writer, I would definitely say: “O restless man! Glory to you forever, thinking, suffering for the sake of the future! If you want to rest your soul, go to the forest to the snowdrops in early spring, and you will see a wonderful dream of reality. Go quickly: in a few days there may not be snowdrops, and you will not be able to remember the magic of the vision given by nature. Go get some rest. Snowdrops - fortunately, they say among the people. "