Author of quotes: Maria Sveshnikova. Page 4

If you trust - you must be deceived.

Emancipation moved us all places, and now they all try to figure out who of us is Right, and who M, maybe we are all really animals and are guided by basic instincts. I personally choose men by smell, maybe just smell good gene pool.

You know what the problem is? What is the work of a sick or dead artist rise in price... and a monument in his lifetime, only to put a lot of money. Because while you're alive - can you explain your work. And creativity is not directly proportional.

Time passed and we started to talk about the fact that we live in a free country. But if the children have access to weapons and money have the most freedom, then what are we talking about?

With age cease to amaze promises "must meet" and instant movement these words in a drawer. And it's not in mass multiple sclerosis. But in ourselves.

In the soul of every girl lives a whore, bitch and a little girl. Of course, in the presence of the soul. It is necessary to be careful. It is like a desire. Desire - the danger, they come true and make you regret it. Soul thinner - she lost her take met and counter. And it can be sold.

I always leave one foot out, love the cold, and its boundaries with warmth. And he always covers the leg. We have no understanding.

We are not gods, although often perceived themselves.

Sometimes scared to close my eyes suddenly re-opened his eyes, we renounce valid. The world will be different, black and white, for example, we'll just Wake up from a terrible NAP - and here's the reality. Happens docked. And then global inconsistencies. And I'll go mad from the truth or tenderness. But yet, from an irresistible desire.

We have too much to talk, discuss, argue, since, as the abolition of censorship, we pound water in a mortar. Infinitely dreary, all the more cynical. Because of this, and go crazy. From words and assumptions.

Somewhere between the formality goes a-haunting love, strong-willed, obsessive, muscular and very selective people. I don't know her.

Moscow - city public, where casual sex is the usual constancy of things. Lust is everywhere - the girl, lick the mayonnaise with the French hot dog, a man who is cold and cruel Smoking a cigarette in a sports convertible, the couple who unashamedly pushes his hands through the fly, sitting on one of the benches of the Nikitsky Boulevard.

Does sex relationship, and the relationship and sex? Everything is so strange, not clear and not understood. But wildly fascinating.

After all, someone always loses. In life someone will be an idiot, and in the books, someone dies.