Character: Ivan Bunin

- Wait, I have to write. Glimpsed something... He, she... Both young, healthy, and strong. So that all the shoulders, teeth, knees. All right, smooth. And then the sun blinding, and she's eating an Apple. Apple is solid, it takes off with a crunch, and the pulp of the juice foam, the bubbles burst. And then he'll kill her. With passion, with pleasure. Love so much the animal, rough, dark... no one wrote it.
- Well, and to kill it is necessary?
- Certainly. Maybe she's in the monastery go, who knows?

In faith, write them down to hell with them, let them come.
- Well, Jan! I will write! Ian, you're done! Right! You're a very kind person!
I hate that enraged lackey!
- Who?! Anyone?!
- Who -- Hitler, of course. And to whom I owe my happiness to see this couple in my house?

You know what I hate most of the Bolsheviks? All this left a gang of revolutionaries and innovators... There are some sophisto, some insensitivity. You remember their faces. Castrati! Rework the lives of those who damn it does not make sense, someone to love is not given. After all, it's like a woman, if you love me, so - all, with all its tears, tantrums, with thick thighs. And these like the ideal idea. Lord tweak.

See, I'm not that afraid of death, I loathe her. I know that there is nothing after death. For someone can have, and for me, nothing. Darkness. Emptiness.

You vodka, then drink?
- Actually, no, but today...
Blimey! And does not drink vodka! Positively, we adopted an angel.

I don't understand what's so annoying? You have no idea how he genuinely admires you! You know, he says he confide algebra harmony of your prose!..
- Algebra? Another pripadoshny!..