Author of quotes: Mark TWAIN. Page 5

Grandma told me not to play cards. She said in a whisper: "Immediately drop these crappy cards! Two pair and a Jack, - you're such a dolt! He, after all, the suit on hand!"

Working on ourselves, we learn not to attach significance to trouble. Clearly, a stranger.

Sadder than a young pessimist can only be the old optimist.
There is no sadder sight than a young pessimist, except an old optimist.

You should have seen her face at that moment! Thanks? It is impossible for words to describe his expression. The word is like a painted flame. And in her eyes was the flame alive. She threw a fiery gaze and carried it with him into the Treasury of heaven, where everything's supposed to be unearthly.

Man always remains man. Centuries of oppression and the yoke can't deny his humanity. Anyone who believes that this error itself is wrong. Yes, every nation is fraught with enough power to create a Republic, even an oppressed people as a Russian, and a timid and indecisive as the German; remove it from the rest, and he will trample in the mud any throne and any know. We will see many, let us hope and believe.

Her Kingdom was in awe of her, because she made us all believe she's the great sorceress. All her desires and all her actions were filled with devilish malice. Cold anger filled her. Her whole life was a chain of terrible crimes. To look at it I was curious as to Satan himself. To my surprise she was beautiful; black thoughts did repulsive expression on her face, the years did not wrinkle her satin skin and touched her blooming freshness.

But nothing can be done - once you start with error, trouble is not corrected, and no one will tell you than you'll end up.

In the silence and darkness of my imagination working. A knowledge of a fact is pale; but when you start to imagine this fact, he finds the bright colors. Quite different things: to hear that man stabbed him in the heart, and to see it. In the silence and darkness of the knowledge that I am in mortal danger, became deeper and deeper; understanding of this hazard over inch by inch into my veins and chills blood in them.
But blessed nature has arranged so that the mercury in the thermometer of the human soul, falling below a certain point, begins to rise again. There is hope, and with hope and courage, and the man again gets the ability to help yourself, if you can still help.

I told him that the word "fossil" as applied to the liners I like very much; I am convinced that the ancient severity should be classified according to geological periods.

There is no time so short life on quarrels, apologies, bile, and calling to account. There is only time to love, and that is to say, there is only a moment.

Individuals who try to find in this narrative a motive will be prosecuted; persons attempt to find a moral will be banished; persons who will try to find a plot will be shot.

Moderation should be in everything - including moderation.

She sat down beside the fire, warmed his hands and waited; her old lips and hands were blue with cold; she was approached by a stranger. It was a traveler; he gently spoke to her and, knowing that no one near but me, he said he was sorry for her. Then he asked, is it true what she admitted and she said no. He looked surprised and him even more was sorry for her, he asked:
- Why did you confess?
- I am old and poor, she said, and I only work to survive. Had no choice as only to admit. If I didn't, they would have to let me go. It would have ruined me, because no one would have forgotten that I was suspected of witchcraft, and for me just would not work, and wherever I went, they would let dogs in my direction. Very soon would come a famine. Fire is the best solution - the end is near. You were kind to me, you two, and I thank you for that.
She clung closer to the fire and extended his hands to warm them, snowflakes gently descended on her white hair, making them even whiter.
A crowd gathered and flew the egg that was in her eyes and flowed down her face. Someone laughed.
She was squatting at the fire, warming herself and waiting; and her old lips and hands were blue with the cold. A stranger came next. He was a traveler, passing through; and he spoke to her gently, and, seeing nobody but me there to hear, said he was sorry for her. And he asked if what she confessed was true, and she said no. He looked surprised and still more sorry then, and asked her:
"Then why did you confess?"
"I am old and very poor," she said, "and I work for my living. There was no way but to confess. If I hadn't they might have set me free. That would ruin me, for no one would forget that I had been suspected of being a witch, and so I would get no more work, and wherever I went they would set the dogs on me. In a little while I would starve. The fire is best; it is soon over. You have been good to me, you two, and I thank you."
She snuggled closer to the fire, and put out her hands to warm them, the snow-flakes descending soft and still on her old gray head and making it white and whiter. The crowd was gathering now, and an egg came flying and struck her in the eye, and broke and ran down her face. There was a laugh at that.

Then he stopped being serious and became extremely funny, by mocking us and our military pride, our great heroes, indestructible glory, mighty kings, aristocrats ancient, time-honored story - he laughed and laughed until we felt sick from laughing; at last he calmed down a bit and said, "Although, by and large, it's not funny, there is a kind of sentiment, if you remember how short your days, how childish your ostentatious pomp, what shadows you are!"
Then he dropped all seriousness and just overstrained himself making fun of us, and deriding our pride in our warlike deeds, our great heroes, our imperishable fames, our mighty kings, our ancient aristocracies, our venerable history-and laughed rated and laughed rated till it was enough to make a person sick to hear him; and finally he sobered a little and said, "But, after all, it is not all ridiculous; there is a sort of pathos about it when one remembers how few are your days, how childish your pomps, and what shadows you are!"