Author of quotes: Alphonse Daudet

Look in her face again,
I beg you dear!
Before us she, like a living -
Buried our love.
Sparing of work and suffering,
Without pangs and burning agony,
We cleaned in the coffin.
We have long blamed fate;
Woe to the women is not forever
And the poet's sadness is fleeting.
But as the weeks pass, and again,
Attracted by a strange force
We sadly stand over the grave,
Where rests our love.

I beg of you, angel baby,
Visit goodbye again
And cry with you at the grave,
Where lies our love!
As a fine piece of funerary!
It is the purity of this world!
Like a flower, isthmuses in the heat
And drooping over a moisture mirror
Like in dreams of a bright past -
Pale young brow
So she wilts sadly.

Contempt - the mask which concealed the jerk, sometimes mental misery; contempt is a sign of a lack of kindness, intelligence and understanding of people.

Will try to fix it with the help of literature the evil done to the literature.

History - the life of the peoples. Novel, the life of people.

There are cheerless funny bone.

When God wants to create great poets, he chooses two or three and sends them to great suffering.

The suffering of all calls - both old and young.

Oh, great bowl of popularity, sweet to drink from it, but how hard it is when it topples.

If you love, then other things you don't.

The dry hearts always easier to ignite.

In love there is no room for reverence and respect for the beloved being, that's why she wakes in man the beast, still covered in it anger or passion.

That's a horrible thing these tears... His calm, mocking voice was made gentle, infinitely sympathetic. - People lived together, they slept, clinging to each other, dreamed together, worked together! All voiced, all gave to each other. Assimilated habits, demeanor, speak, even the features of a loved one. The two merged into one... in a word, what we used to call "collage"!.. Then suddenly abandon each other apart... How does this happen? Where is this courage? I never could... Yeah if I was deceived, insulted, soiled with the mud and ridiculed, after all, if a woman began to cry and said to me: "stay," I would... That's why when I meet a woman, always just for one night... Let it not be tomorrow... or for that matter marriage! This at least, finally and noble.

Hatred is the anger of the people is weak.