Author of quotes: Zakhar Prilepin. Page 5

When the humility of the Holy man does omit a nonentity? And when the riot makes national hero epileptic psychopath?

The perfect way to find out the degree of vulgarity of your woman - to see her in extreme irritation. And yet, listen as it speaks of carnal pleasures.

We love when women get scared. Comes in, dragging his guts behind him. My dear, that you have the guts, why they going after you? Don't pay attention to me and not such happened.

Stocks of impudence in any man's huge, no matter how much I dig to the bottom and not get.

I lost a match. Boxes lost, they say.
Lost the sense of frail, disastrous being.
Arrogant, the word weed, standing in the wet wind.
Happiness, as you large. Where should I hide you?
There is no feeling of cold, slush.
A veil of wind, fog and no snow overtakes me.
Something crumbles in his hands. Think this winter:
Frantic, but not hear, as if in a silent film.
Not to take to heart. Learn to accept it.
I really want to make, but the heart like a puppy
Stupid is sitting in the corner, in a puddle on the floor.
He will lick the stomach, then he scratch his cheek.
Heart, where are you and what are you? You do?
Don't know your beat, not feel the weight of yours.
My God, simply Oh, God, you didn't know
I stand, smiling. Even that was just for fun.
There is no sense of time. Warm, frantic, lively,
I see nothing but happiness. Much more than I need him.
Froze, I know, seemed to be frozen. I know and can not admit to themselves
At least on atom black blue
Fumes smelling of night - town in the dirty snow-
The fatal consequences of this heart - this wind sound.
I don't know how not to pardon, not to reproach.
What I ask of God? Except that, a light.

There is no greater emptiness than in expectation.

Everything was wonderful; and that "everything" sometimes seemed to be swinging, and sometimes froze them to enjoy. We enjoyed. Nothing could touch so much as to cause any other reaction, but good and easy laughter.

The heart was absent. Happiness is weightless, and media it - weightless. And the heart - heavy. I didn't have the heart. And she didn't have the heart, we were both heartless...

My childhood was unbearable, the sound of his own heart. If the night, in my sleep I'm tossing and turning, lay down so that they begin to hear pulsation, heartbeat, for example, laid her head on his shoulder, the awakening was instantaneous. Heartbeat it always seemed to me disgusting, treacherous and fleeing. Why this ridiculous red piece of meat drags me in full void and dark? I laid my head on the pillow and calmed down - no silence... no heart... all right...

So many tears in your eyes. Smorgy, mother, it's unbearable.

Hell - when it is already impossible to suffer and die - not give.

Thought about her mother and Jan. They were replaced in the head, and both felt sorry for them intolerable, and both seemed native enough to die for them like immediately and easily.

Grandma said quietly:
- Sit at the window and sit, sit. I think someone would have told me to go a thousand Dan, barefoot, rain or winter to see their son, and I would have gone. Nisht no talking, no touching, just see how you breathe.
The grandmother said quietly, and the words it was the black terror, the almost unimaginable loneliness, which just recently thought of Sasha - the loneliness, the opened other side is huge, but devoid of echo, it did not respond in any way, to any voice.