Author of quotes: Lena Eltang

The network is such a thing, in it you can shout that you are a murderer, and no one will even raise an eyebrow. And hang a video with a talking cat, people from all over the world will gather, they will sigh and swell.

Women are the gatekeepers of chaos, you trust them by default, if they do not hold the door well, then darkness penetrates everywhere.

As soon as a person decides that he was created for hatred, fastened by it, as if a museum skeleton of a predatory creature - with a wire, he becomes fragile, and if the wire is pulled out, he will crumble into a thousand vertebrae and small cartilages.

How do you deal with your present if the past turns out to be a trick?

Age is supposed to be counted from the end of the line, just not everyone understands it.

The writer must leave behind a difficult youth full of misunderstandings, wanderings and joyful outbursts of grief.

Confusion is what remains of hatred when you forget the face you hated.

People love you because they don't have to strain to comprehend your words and actions. Distance between you and the people should be closely crowded, people want to rely on friends chests, jump clear chairs, pass the famous backwaters of mirrors. People don't want to see the void between themselves and others, they fill her hot and friable substance - oatmeal their indifference, their understandable condensed milk heaven, but God knows what filled, even to think reluctance.

... In forty years we should live a special life without much fuss with no fuss and no booze. When I'm forty, I thought, will need to become a Egyptian statuette: the right ear to listen to the breath of life, and the left - shadow of death. You will need to get rid of anyone who interferes, and even those who do not interfere, but not much help. Everyone who takes the time, pesters its emptiness, took the money without a return, understands too much, takes out a knife from his pocket and takes me for a fool. All to separate and keep the balance.

I tell you, doctor, is your dislike is only after love five hundred years ago benicasa lace wove the pattern on the fabric and the paper pattern will spin a thick eyelets, pull out the paper, and - voila! it was called punto in aria - stitches in air and loving memory: a piece of lace - here it is, and pattern not remember, because grace, a perplexity.

The mind of man - a dog's tail, so if a pretzel - do not straighten, it is still bent.

With the woman in the hands of the calendar, greasy and shiny, like amber, you avoid to meet.

He's so self-absorbed in their colorless to blame the autumn that it's time to knock it inflated bull bladder on the head, as it did with the ancient thinkers of their servants.

Maybe you know how long the mosquito lives, to what depth the sea illuminated by the sun and how the soul of oysters, but you're far from the described Ayiana elderly servant, seeing everything through.