Character: Alexis II de kije

All we can say and think, appears only in time, luminous blurred trail momentarily leaves the space of our mind, like a meteor in the sky.

Anyone, leading with a pen and paper, is able to create other worlds. They will be as real as we ourselves, for we are all just colored pieces, dying in the night sky.

Knowledge is when you cling to him, truly, destroys any grief. But we hold onto our pain, rightly suspecting that it is we ourselves, if we are to take it from us, we are more anywhere will not find. Therefore, the freedom of the few who hurries, and who found her, just in case, keep quiet.

Even Shiva dancing, obeying the rules. The only difference is that his dance is in the heart of the world. But this does not mean that he has more freedom. He has more responsibility. From his dance independent the dance all the others.

Without creation there is nothing to destroy, and without destruction there is no place to create.

- Do you feel bad? asked Yuka.
- All right, - I replied.
- Are you sure?
"No," I said. - How can you be sure?
"No," she sighed.

The paradox is that to change the direction of flow cannot by any effort of will. But to change the inclination of the channel can be a huge number of ways, because any direction - just a Mirage and a fake.

It occurred to me that the moon is an independent light, it only emits light of a different nature and not only does daytime reality and night, that is our dreams... And the day lies about reflected light - just the way a demon of the mind tries to conceal this great secret.

The constant degradation of the human world is inevitable, because the best are born in it being only one dream - to leave him forever.

Pity, by the way, another typical mask of love.

Asked to consider carefully the sequence of events, which consists of "love". In moments of passion we are talking with our favorite smart themes - we simply love, and the place of words is a passionate sighs. When we engage in serious conversation, we no longer perceive them as an object of desire. But if we need a little human warmth, we are drawn to it - and forget time and the thoughts, and passions. We use all these elements at a time, and never at the same time.

By the way, another way, which disguises the love - the desire to possess impersonating a desire to help and save...

Love is disguised as something else, until its roots reach the bottom of the soul and the illness will become incurable. Up to this point we keep the levity - we think we just simply met a funny creature, and it entertains us, immersing for a time in a cheerful carefree. Only then, when it turns out that no one else in the world is able to lead us to this simplest of chemical reactions, we understand what kind of a trap hit.

People for so many centuries compare love to a disease that wants to speak on this subject can hardly be told humanity radically new. We can only endlessly clarify the diagnosis.