Character: Nicholas Urfe. Page 1

- Nothing in life more beautiful than you've never seen.
- You're not seeing.
- Feel.

In moments of despair poems, for me, was the emergency exit, a life raft, the meaning of life.

Fully trained to failure, I entered into a great life.

I went through several interviews. And if I wasn't going to show that puppy enthusiasm, which we require from the novice official will not be accepted.

Alison was always female; unlike many English girls, she never cheated on her floor. She was not beautiful, and often even cute. But connecting to its merits (the fine figure of a boy, perfect choice of clothing, graceful gait), as it was erected in degree. She's walking along the sidewalk, stops crossing the street, heading to my car; a terrific impression. But when she's around, in the other seat can be seen in her features a certain incompleteness, as if have indulged child. But quite close it was just made at times seemed like a real freak, but only one movement, a grimace, a turn of the head, and the ugliness is gone.

To displace this fact from the sphere of moral in the field of art - where it is easier to handle.

Many weeks I felt disjointed, alienated from his former self, and now, it's just a pile of parts lying on the workbench, abandoned by its designer and not knowing exactly how to pull yourself together.

While she talked about his ill-fated affair, I guessed, what factor of its nature the report does not address: the delicate balance of bodily sensory timidity and audacity, - the first kindle man, second in scoring moment doomed to destruction.

So far I have experienced only a thirst for carnal pleasures, and now know love and desire.

Partly my hesitation was due to the nostalgia for the lost LAWRENCEVILLE ideal for the woman that loses the man in all respects until you bring out a powerful tool of his mysterious, gloomy, beautiful sex, a brilliant, energetic, he is dark, she is lazy.

It was apparent malleability of unlocked doors; however, the darkness outside the door kept me from having to log in.

No beauty, no morality, no God, no strict proportions; only the instinctive animal sense of contact.

If we identify consciousness with the mass, we balance each other like the weights of the same value. This balance lasted for a long time, almost indefinitely; two of the lump of matter, each in a cocoon of emptiness, divorced at the poles, devoid of thoughts and feelings.

You turn words into empty the trash.