Author of quotes: Ivan Alekseevich Bunin. Page 4

Again a dream, captivating and sweet
I dream and joy intoxicating, -
Cute eyes calling me furtively
A gentle smile beckons.
I know - gonna cheat on me again
The dream at the first glare of day,
But until the sad day comes
Smile for me - lie to me!

Birch yellow thread
Shining in azure blue.

... one of the hallmarks of the revolution - mad lust for games, play-acting, posture, farce. A man wakes up the monkey.

For a long time all is a steady decline. As angrily, reluctantly opened the door the doorman! The polls all have a fierce aversion to all work.

Tolstoy said about himself: - the trouble is that my imagination a little more alive than others... and I have this trouble.

"Go without work, went to the Council of deputies to request places - places they say no, and here's two orders on the right to search, can be of great profit. I told them to go little distance, I'm an honest man..."

"Still not time to understand the Russian revolution, impartially, objectively..." hear It now constantly. Impartially! But this impartiality would never be. And most importantly: our "bias" is in fact very, very precious to the future historian. Important is "passion" only "revolutionary people"? And we-well, not people, or what?

Now it's easy breath again dissipated in the world, this cloud-sky, in this cold spring wind.

Waking up, as a particularly clear, sober, and realized with horror that I perish from this life, both physically and mentally. And record I really, you know, that hit like crazy... Yes, but does it matter?

How crazy, scared everyday, normal, when the heart is amazed - Yes, amazed, he saw now this - this terrible "solar shock", too much love, too much happiness!

He pushed himself from the beet soup, asked for black coffee and began to smoke and hard to think: now what to do he how to get rid of this sudden, unexpected love? But to get rid of - he felt it too vividly - it was impossible.

And this city seemed to him somehow special, protected city and the thought that she will live in his lonely life, often, perhaps, remembering him, remembering them random, such a fleeting meeting, and he will never see her, this thought amazed and struck him. No, this can't be! It would be too weird, unnatural, fake. And he felt such pain and such the uselessness of all his future life without her, that he was seized by horror and despair.

She, the pain was so strong, so unbearable that, not thinking what he was doing, not knowing what will come of all this, passionately desiring only one thing - at least for a moment to get rid of it and not to fall into this terrible world where he had spent the whole day and where he has just in the most horrible and disgusting of all the green dream, he fumbled and pushed the drawer of the night table, caught a heavy cold lump of a revolver and deep and happily sigh, opened his mouth and with power, with pleasure fired.

And the black sky draw fiery shafts strips shooting stars. Gaze into its dark blue depths, full of constellations, until you float the ground beneath their feet. Then tremble, and, hiding hands in sleeves, quickly run through the alley to the house... How cool, dewy and how to live well in the world!