Character: Lillian Dunkerque. Page 4

If the prisoner will be offered a choice - to live a year free, and then die or rot in jail, how do you think he should do?

- To find himself face to face with death is quite different than talking about it.

- Not true. Almost no one thinks about death until it got really close to him. The tragedy and yet the irony lies in the fact that all people on earth, from the dictator down to the last beggar, act like they will live forever. If we constantly lived with the consciousness of the inevitability of death, we would be more humane and merciful.
And more impatient, desperate and fearful, ' said Lilian, laughing.
And more understanding and generous...
And more selfish...
- And more selfless, because the light did not take.
- In short, we would be about the same as we are now.
Gerard leaned on the arm.
- All except the Tibetan sages and scattered all over the world of eccentrics, on which laughs.
All I wanted to say Lillian, but said nothing. She remembered the sanatorium, where nothing was forgotten, though there is a death ignored, but not to stupid to eke out their days, but because, knowing the inevitability of death, how to overcome your fear.
- Except for the sick, ' said Gerard. - But after three. day after recovery, they forget all solemnly promised myself during my illness.

Every person travels from Brescia to Brescia. So?.. From Toulouse to Toulouse. From complacency to smugness.

- What kind of love is not the opposite of truth?
"No," said Lilian, rising. - The opposite of love is death. Bitter enchantment of love help us for a short time to forget about it. Therefore, anyone who is even slightly acquainted with death, familiar and loving. Lillian wore the dress. But it is also a half-truth. Is it possible to be friends with death?
- Of course not. We only know that it is the opposite of life, not love, that's all, but it is doubtful.

We should have no fear of dead, he said, while the sled slid down a twisty road.
We don't have a lot, ' muttered Lillian.

The fireworks went out, why to dig in the ashes?

I'm not leaving, just sometimes I'm not...

- Sometimes you can be wise. And it scares me.
- I am not. After all, it is one word. They juggle, when you do not have the strength to go on; then they again forget. They are similar to the bursts of the fountain: listen to them some time, and then begin to hear what words can Express.

There must be another, not familiar to me a life that speaks the language of books, paintings and music awakens in me the alarm beckons me...

- Are you happy?
- What is happiness?
You're right... Who knows what it is? Maybe to stay over the precipice.

Cutting. He says sharpness? And am I cutting? Maybe I just don't have time to cheat delicately, covering the bitter truth of fake gold in manners.

- You look quite happy. You're in love?
Yes. In a dress.

I have the feeling that I was among the people who are going to live forever. In any case, they behave. So they borrow money that they forgot about life.