Author of quotes: Leonid Nikolaevich Andreev. Page 4

It was so scary when I see people's faces, and some their backs, motionless and deaf.

True love you can learn how from her man is getting better, and even that... how her heart lighter.

... it seemed to him that he's already half dead and have to do a bit to die out. Every spring, for three years, he thought about death, and this spring decided that it's time to die. He's never been in love, he had no grief and he wanted to live, but everything in the world seemed unnecessary, pointless and therefore contrary to disgust, disgust to convulsions in the face.

This would feel a man, if at night, when he was in the house alone, all things are revived, began to move and gained over him, man, unlimited power. Suddenly staliby his judge: a cupboard, a chair, a Desk and a sofa. He would have shouted and danced, begged, screamed for help, and they said something would differently among themselves, and then led him to hang a cupboard, a chair, a Desk and a sofa. And look at this other stuff.

And what a great liar who can only deceive others? Lie to yourself to believe is art!

It's too late. Everything comes too late, and this is the solution for my despair. Love... Yes, love. That's God damn a country where being late is the law where the train doesn't come on schedule and the chiefs of stations in the red hats - all crazy or idiots. But here and caretaker went crazy from the crashes! Late all the confessions and kisses, always too early for one and too late for the other, lie all the hours and meetings and, as a dance of drunken ghosts, some run in circles, others are catching up, gasping for air her arms out. Everything in the world comes too late, but only love can minute delays to turn into a bottomless eternity of eternal separation!

After parting with the man for an hour, unable then to find him in eternity.

To go ahead frequently look back, otherwise you will forget where you came from and where you need to go.

I always like to be respectful with those whom I despised, and to kiss the people that I hated that made me free, and Lord over others. But I never knew a lie to himself - this most common and lowest forms of enslavement of human life. And the more I lied to people, the ruthlessly truthful became to himself a dignity which few can boast.

Crazy not sleeping. They are suffering, and in his mind they are all turbid. Yes. Turbid and falls... And they want to howl, to scratch yourself with your hands. They want to be here, on all fours and crawl softly, and then again to jump out and yell "Aha!" - and to laugh. And howl. So to raise his head and a long, long, drawl-drawl, sorry-sorry.
Yes. Yes.
And I slept like a baby. Is crazy sleep like babies?

I love it when in a thin glass plays Golden wine; I love, tired, to reach out in a clean bed; in the spring I like to breathe clean air, see the beautiful sunset, to read interesting and clever books. I love myself, the strength of your muscles, the force of his thought, clear and precise. I love the fact that I'm alone and no curious eyes cannot penetrate the depths of my soul with its dark pits, and depths, on the edge of which the head is turned. I never knew and didn't know what people call boredom of life. Life is interesting, and I love her for the great mystery that it is, I love her even for her cruelty, for the ferocious vengeance and satanic fun people and events.

- What could we do, judge for yourself...
- Who's he that asks what to do! He goes and does everything. He cries, he bites, he strangles the enemy and break his bones! Who loves! When your son is drowning, do you go into town and ask passersby: "What do I do? My son is buried!" - instead of throwing himself into the water and drown with my son. Who loves!..

People always seek someone who is already wounded nature.

I still love you, man, but some nights I just was ready to cry, thinking of your suffering, tormented about your body, about your soul, given over to eternal crucifixion.