Author of quotes: Zakhar Prilepin. Page 1

Women who grew up outside, I saw her as bright and rare Christmas decoration, tenderly held in the hands. And could not conceive-as is the case with spoiled children, easily crush in stupid curiosity of the toy - about the internal structure of the decoration, was seen as integral, given to me goodness.

Illusion defined, the dispersion of which we see today in Ukraine, another type of illusion, it was typical for me and for my friends... Illusions, not even associated with Russian spring, Donbass is not a story, and illusions that are associated with the fact that... I had a feeling that truth, honesty, dignity - always wins. I before forty years were here in this wonderful feeling that good must win. And when I started writing this book, I came up with is very simple and banal idea that idealists have to beat the person on the table. And my life hit my face on the table. This is a huge cemetery in the Donbas killed my comrades, who seemed to be the best people on earth, which seemed to me give hope for other life in Russia, modification of the situation, that what I want to write poetry and sing songs. They were all killed. They lie dead. I was left alone. I look at it in deep sorrow. And so I wrote about this book that I have lived to see forty-three years and I lost. Although Russian spring left the Donbass anyway we won and never surrender, but the feeling is bitter to me.

In Russia, read clever books two hundred thousand people. Well, three hundred. Three hundred read terrible books, it would be better do not know how to read. In Russia, listen to smart music three hundred thousand people. Well, five hundred. Another fifty million are listening to this, so it would be better not even to know what. In Russia smart watch the same movie two hundred, three hundred, five hundred thousand people. Okay, fine, a million. The rest don't watch a smart movie. Look stupid. So what? <...> Our great and smart people owe nothing to anyone. If we want him umnel, have to do it at the state level. Garbage to crap everywhere, and people to serve only high-quality pastries and freshly squeezed juices. So the choice was between good, great and masterpiece. Otherwise you will be eternal "Trees," sticks and diggers. Do not want - as want. But the main thing is not to flatter. Compared to us, Soviet citizens of the sample in 1975 - people of other civilizations. They (tens of millions!) went to the movies Shukshin and Herman, and are in the millions. - read the Strugatsky and Rasputin. And stadiums listening to poetry. Now with a circulation of 500 copies are sold years.

Today gone is the notion of male honor. If Pushkin and Lermontov knew that they could die at any second, they do not have any problems, but today, in this sense, the situation is bad. You can shake off any spit, any insult and you'll be fine. Because all of for fun, not seriously. And for them it was serious. And for us - no. It just strikes me as really weird, you know? I try some things to determine which are the most serious.

Ramzan is inexplicably Russian.

The most important things are understood on the threshold of a dream - sometimes it seemed to Artyom. One hitch: then in the morning do not remember what I understand. Something must have realized, and what is forgotten. But, maybe you don't remember?

The prison also has a lot to learn. You need to whittle down their corners. The ball is rolling - in life you have to roll. All.

Poems to teach, and in the hearts of men is also something that can be read.

At first, Tom read the names of the monks buried, but the memory can't cope. Caught only one date - of his birth, but a hundred years ago, on the same day and also in may. Date of death was - 1843-th, Dec. “Little... with a smile, whether of the dead, whether about yourself, Artem thought; and thought, - What we will have in 1943?”

“Like a forest berry, the Theme?” The answer was: “Berry in Moscow, the Deputy head of Gepea. And in the forest - we”.

I've been here is that to understand that aristocracy is no blue blood, no. It's just people eatin from generation to generation, they collected Amateur girls berries, they made the bed and washed them in the bath, and then combed his hair with a comb. And they washed and combed out to such an extent that they became the aristocracy. Now we exported in the mud, but these top, they fed, are they washed, and they... well, maybe not they, but their children will also become aristocracy.

You have to pretend that adults we are now, although I are no dramatic differences between a fourteen-year-old and the current was never found. Except that I grew up the son of fourteen.

... it was raining, quiet, easy procurable, cheerful and gentle, like a four year old boy rode past on a Bicycle.

Not true when they say that life is always a choice. Sometimes there is no choice.