Character: Tatiana. Page 2

Fear of ridicule and condemnation of the human was gone, along with other human properties, of which most I'm sorry the wonderful ability to love out of the blue. It is this ability that really brightened my life.

... Accidentally on the street, walked past. A girl of eighteen in a baggy black coat, long brown hair, somehow trimmed bangs. Something ridiculous figure. And in manners. Something absolutely does not coincide with reality, impulsive and terribly touching.
She didn't see me, distracted by my book or my dreams. She was staring blankly gray-blue Northern eyes, and I froze in recognition... I knew this enchanted absent-minded look, these bitten nails, these poor broken shoes. I instinctively felt how talented she is and how unhappy. And I knew for a long time she'll have to be talented - it is unknown what, and miserable, and it is too clear why.
It's a female mutant.
It is the result of a cruel experiment for the introduction of the spirit in nature.
It's a woman, which got the spark of the creative mind.
It's me.

No wonder the proverb is reputed to Moscow from all over Russia under the mountain: all of it is heading.

There are no miracles, baby! No Prince in you, of course, will not fall in love a couple of years of pretty girls you turn into a stale girl, and over everything that will kill you neighbor's stable boy in the hay, will abrogated and bear you another one just like the mess the loser, doomed to a broom and a dirty rag. No miracle, Cinderella. And don't ask about it, don't annoy others once again forced to debunk your childhood fantasies. Miracles do not happen - at your age you should know this.

- What lies ahead?
- Anything you want to see!
- Yes, but... have to invent!
Believe need...
- What?
- In his dream.

People broken by the world no noise, no screams... no tears... quietly...

I often think that books are written by people... who don't like me... always arguing with me. It's like they're telling me: it's better than you think, and this is worse... <...> Bad and heavy they describe is not how I see it... and especially... in a bigger... in a tragic tone. And good - they make up. No one explained love they way they write about it! And life is not tragic... it flows quietly, monotonously... like a big muddy river. And when you look at it flowing, the eyes get tired, feel bored... head gets dumb and don't even want to think about - why does the river flow?

Even if you killed thousands of innocents, it will be called self-defense.

- Me, please, coffee.
- There's no coffee.
- Then tea.
Tea, unfortunately, also ended!
- What do you have?
- Only water! Toilet just down the corridor...

People understand immediately, people without a trace, uninteresting. The person must accommodate, if possible, all, plus something else.