Author of quotes: Nikos Kazantzakis

At this moment, near the village ran up to us a beggar dressed in rags. Dark, dirty, with a small thick black mustache.
- Hey, brother! - he called Zorbas. - You have a soul?
Zorba stopped.
- Yes, there is, ' he answered seriously.
- Then give me five drachmas!
Zorba pulled from his pocket a dilapidated leather wallet.
- Here you go! he said.
The smile softened his features. He turned to me.
- I see - he said - is not very appreciated here the soul: five drachmas.

That's what freedom, I thought. - Have a passion to collect gold coins, and then suddenly forget everything and throw their wealth into the wind. To free themselves from one passion to submit to another, more worthy. But isn't all this a kind of slavery? To dedicate yourself to the idea in the name of his tribe, in the name of God? Well, the higher is the position of the host, the longer becomes the rope of a slave? In this case, he can play on a more spacious arena and die without having felt the rope. Maybe call it freedom?

In fact, every mortal burdened by desire, a vicious excitement, which involves love, the body, the voice; in poetry it all, pereplelis in the blast furnace of consciousness, is transformed into an abstract idea.

If you like to rip open the heart of an Englishman, you would have discovered in the midst of his piece trimmed lawn. At the first opportunity, the Englishman of any social class tends to sit under a tree or stretch out on the grass, or slowly and silently walk under the green oaks tent with a concentrated, slightly sad expression.
Paradise poms decorated the lawns. And these lawns roam the British righteous, Smoking their pipes and keeping their inseparable umbrellas.