Author of quotes: Konstantin Simonov

War is accelerated life, and nothing else. And in life people die, and in war it's the same, only the speed is different.

There is nothing to poke your anger in the eyes of others, we are all the same in the war now: the evil ones are evil, and the good ones are also evil! And whoever is not evil either has not seen the war, or thinks that the Germans will take pity on him for his kindness.

And such sorrow seizes the heart, such sorrow for the lost people, for the devastated land, that it seems that this sorrow - deep, indestructible, unquenchable - like a punishing right hand, will someday rise above the vile country that has fed these degenerates who now, pressed by us, they retreat farther and farther along the snowy roads leading to the west.

Yes, here it is, the so-called private life... what private life? Used words without thinking of their meaning. Unless a person has some kind of different life, not the personal - impersonal, what? Spooky, or what? If a person of cowardice has not divided itself into two imaginary halves, then no other life and actually exist in nature, but personal.

They were lying together in a strange house in a strange bed with an old, high, almost to the middle of the wall, back of full mahogany. Lay weary and confused by the simplicity and naturalness of everything that happened to them. Nika, with her every time again continues to amaze his sensitivity, helped him to leave with a sense of unease - both actual and invented, from self-doubt. He was happy her fault and felt in debt to her, which, perhaps, is the love of a woman.

Justice begins with the willingness to give credit to those who do not love.

Bessarion was a man and knew you should ask friends why they're unhappy, but we can hardly ask why they are happy...

Solitude is a good thing, but you shouldn't take large doses.

This, of course, nonsense that life is irreparable only one thing - death. In life many irreparable, or rather, all that was altered would be different, Yes it's late. And yet just obvious irreparable death. When someone's life was a part of your life - if this is true, without exaggeration, the death of a man is also part of your death. You're still alive, but something in you has died and will not rise again. You can only pretend that you're still intact. Because the torn piece of soul is not the hand and leg, and that he is divorced - you can't see it.

He looked at her, and think I started to understand what she wanted. Once before, she wanted that it was my fault that she left him for another man. Now she wished that he was to blame for the fact that it goes back to this person. That's all! She wished that she was right and he's wrong again. Although he tried to suppress the feeling, he felt sorry for her. The man, who all his life always and everywhere blames not himself, but others, in their unhappy too.

Returning, he still felt this sympathetic look. Only the first of many. Perhaps, others will assume that such middle-aged and ugly don't leave women. Women are moving away from them yourself. <...> It, then, for any other women. Now it will be only a present, middle-aged and not at spent his mental strength. And therefore do not believe in that part of ourselves that is not war and not a job. <...> ... with a sad face and woven, hands behind his back began to talk nonsense, vinosense in advance, on the road. In fact, it was a long Preface to the request to let her go with God. And it had some meaning before, in front of this, not now when he already let her go. But she was sorry to leave all these pre-cooked and now meaningless words. And he listened and thought, "No, she came here in the train still not together, and one - to rehearse all this nonsense, you had the time and solitude". She was talking about herself, always understood him. And him never understood. Their sacrifices for him. About how she next to him gradually ceased to be myself and now, without him, again feeling human.

- Can you guess why I came? she asked, looking up at him. She was still beautiful, and still it was impossible not to notice.
- No, not guess, ' he said.
It was the truth. My whole life with her, he almost could never guess what she will come to a head in the next minute.
I've come to request that you removed my sin and let me go - without waiting for a response, she said. - I have to marry Evgeny Alekseevich.
Said "come" not "came," probably, in advance thought over. Sinners do not come and come. He looked at her, her delicately twisted and sad in the chair, a familiar body, and refrain from rudeness, said: "Well, times have - and go!" Silent. In the end, what does it? Blame not her, but it was her body that he whole fifteen years loved against the intellect. "And could not break away from him, could not come off", - with contempt for his own weakness he thought about himself. She looked at him, and he was silent. It seemed to her that he is angry or, as she mentally used to say, "bites bit", he softened, amused by the thought of his own fault. Before irritated used to be considered her fault that he needed the body lived the soul of unneeded, is indifferent to what he lived and what he did, occupied only with themselves, and a something- stupid.

In war, not run from place to place seeking hotter: the war waiting in the wings.

Brave is not he who can kill and who killed you to not be afraid. Rather, although afraid, but do not stop before, to be killed, fulfilling that need.