Author of quotes: Victor Astafiev. Page 2

In the heroic the Soviet Union advanced ideas and the car is always valued more than human life. If the Soviet people, dying, rescued equipment from the frying pan, out of the pit, out of the water, prevented the collapse of the railway - it was composed verses, sung the songs, the film was shot. And if saving technique, people die - his card printed in the Newspapers, forced children, but a better mother and father to speak in the spirit that their son or daughter in order to grow, so everywhere to show the heroism, courage and his life to strengthen the power of Soviet industry and its keen so show off the wheel - without the wheel goes, fail the bridge - he would read piles, and even with the song: "As one man, the entire Soviet people..."

God and nature has provided man with one single opportunity to come to life, and since the creation of the world the way of his birth has not been changed. But the man himself directed his mind came up with thousands of ways to destroy life and achieved such diversity and perfection!

Vaskonen looked at the night sky, at the stars and thought about the fact that under this imperturbable, eternal sky are devilish plans the little mortal men to arrogate to itself the right to rule the world in his own intelligence and discretion, and because all is done in the name and for the good of his people, true humanity and justice. Nazism is opposed to Bolshevism, the fruit is filled with a new morality, a fresh humanity, rejecting the Nazi and every other humanism. It is only strange that morality and humanism are approved by different methods are the same of their approval of the same in the name of the better half of the nation, the worst at the discretion of the German and Soviet specialists to the fertilizer in the dump. Through the blood, through the violent imposition of delusional views on world domination in the name of this ruthless suppression of dissent, although in principle and dissent do not, on the one hand the conquest of the world in the name of the Aryan race, without Marxism, on the other hand, the conquest of the world for approval of the ideas of communism with the advanced Marxist science, the doctrine, that these things, by the way, made in Germany and imported as a gift to Russia a rabid gang of sumamigren who are nothing but themselves, not pity, and sense of homeland and Rodney is completely alien to them.

Stretches and stretches of history, and not only Russian, this eternal topic: why are the same mortals as a talker-a soldier, send and send own kind to the slaughter? In fact it turns out brother brother betrays brother brother kills. From the Kremlin, Hitler's military office, to dirty trenches, to the smallest order, for by the king or the Marshal will stretches the thread, where you want the order to go the man to death. A soldier, even if he last thing also wants to live, one it, all over the world and the wind, and why it is unfortunate, in my eyes has never seen the king, no leader, no Marshal should lose the only value of life? And a small part of this world, calling a soldier must confront two dreadful forces, the front, and that back needs tricky soldier, to endure, to survive, in flames-polyme, and even force to keep order as the man to liquidate the consequences of the destruction created by them, to manage to prolong the human race, it's not the leaders, not the kings of renewing it, back men.

This is the peculiarity of art is most pleasing to military people, the guys already knew what kind of photographer out cards prettier, to him and all lined up. Elegant young fighters did not know that many of them will be destined to stay in the home in a makeshift frame, in album whariki Il brides only predmostovoy photography. Forgetting the living image of the son, the brother or of the groom, and it will remember the card, calling the handsome beloved.

And all the modern camping, all modern revolutions, started by provospalitelna innovative ideas, started from the same point where we started the war half-wild shaggy Horde, with fire, destroying the work of man.

But in order to fully realize this, you will need to swallowed your fill of dirt, to feel the oppressive burden of loneliness, like death, so after probably too to say: the man is only one woman, then all the others, and from what it will be, first, depends the whole subsequent fate of the peasant, the fullness of his soul, character traits, attitude to the world, to other people, especially other women, who include a mother who gave him life and the woman who gave experience the sensation of infinity of life, the secret sweet delight it.

It was reverently quiet, even mysterious. Leshia began to comprehend the minute high sense of natural life - all of it, this meaning, is in anticipation of such meetings, is in it, in life, is inviolable, the eternal, and could only create a woman. Happiness, kindness - everything, everything in her sacrifice, her wisdom, Privetnoye tenderness.

Will harass they will harass these masters of life who want to, but all their rules, according to Soviet law, and bullets will not regret it. Cartridges only the enemy of the fascist is not enough to exasperate their countrymen from the land of the Soviets always got ammo, is not enough - the children the last crumb otymut, bread barter bullets and cartridges" - these are the thoughts disturbed, knocked a sheared boxes and settled into the deep, into the heart, to the Russian long Nadsiannia, peretruhina heart.

Anisim Anisimovich understood; not to him personally hatred to the work which he performed was, is and always will be she, because He - He! - commanded: "judge Not, that criminal record will be!" But what now is He? Yeah nothing! Canceled It in Russia, kicked, spit upon, and the court here is not of God, and right, the Soviet by which it appears that all the little people that fill this country, always to blame and to prosecute.

But one who loved and was loved, happiness is itself the memory of love, longing for her and thinking that somewhere there is a person, too, thinking about you, and maybe in this life is vain, difficult, and it becomes easier in everyday life when he remembers his youth...

She was ordinary, that love, and at the same time the most extraordinary, the kind no one and has never been, and never will, perhaps. One poet said: "Love the old stuff, but every heart updates it in its own way"

How often do we rush to high words, pondering them. Here Goldoni: children, happiness, children, joy, kids - the light in the window! But the children are still our flour. Our eternal alarm. Children is our court in the world, our mirror in which the conscience, intelligence, honesty, neatness of our all shaved looks. Children may close, we never. And another thing: whatever they were, large, smart, strong, they always need our protection and assistance. And to think: soon to die, and then they were alone, who, except father and mother, knows who they are? Who will take them as is? Who will understand? Forgive?

With age I've learned: joy is brief, passing, often deceptive, sadness is eternal, beneficent, unchanging. Joy flashes with summer lightning, no, lightning and erratic rolled away with a rumble. Sadness shining softly as Apadana star, but this light does not fade, night or day, gives rise to thoughts of others, yearning for love, dream about something unknown, whether about the past, always painfully sweet, whether of the alluring and ambiguities frighteningly-attractive future. The wise, old sadness to her millions of years, joy is always in children, in child form, for every heart she's born again, and the farther into the life, the less her well as colors - the thick taiga, so they are less.