Author of quotes: Lawrence Durrell. Page 1

Although I certainly would not like meeting with the artist whom you admire. For me, personality and creativity - things where as far from each other.

... the owner of the house uses the odd phrase, saying that retired. Now he "builds the soul."

For those standing on the edge of the universe, not demanded by God, a single God, the only truth is: the work itself is Love.

How silly, how ridiculous it is to be young, to be clumsy and insensitive and feel like they pull you out of ogromnejshij depths.

... but to look into his own soul he was not accustomed, not engaged yet, so to speak, into the possession of this share of the property, and in his youth decided simply not to notice anything.

God, what boredom in these missions, they're all just pee in panties!

I have probably been a little mysterious, like a monk, buying a condom.

The poet - the master of the talent, not yet in his unconditional ownership of his gift given to him for use. He does not read morality, but brings pleasure.

Great work - it successfully passed a state of mind, cosa mentale.

War is for people of all: the absence of unemployment, freedom from the wife and kids a false sense of purpose in life. Lay the blame for their own neurasthenia neighbor and punish him. It was really inevitable and at the same time illusory. The reason everyone loves the war, is simple: don't have time to ask an even more important question, namely: "What have I done with my life?" I have enough time, but not common sense. I immersed myself in this amazing amnesia that is able to infect only massive bloodshed. The gods crave blood! Mass slaughter! Yay!

Something is wrong in a philosophy that offers hope for happiness. Despite the position of the person (tragic), there must be at least a promise of happiness that was felt in the air.

For each act there is a hundred reasons. Ultimately it is impossible to say which of them was decisive. Life is getting napoliroma, not clearer.

... what about the faces of young? They have this expression like they cracked the coveted box of sex, and found its contents quite moldy. Sex should be similar to the Royal table, and not the pig trough.

Man, loving the insane, forced to constantly monitor your mind, because sooner or later each of us understands how precarious his brain. Constantly watching the crazy, Willy-nilly, closer to him. It turns out, sane breeze, and sanity begins to introduce something temporary and unreliable.