Character: Peter Void

But instead of protest, I took a SIP of champagne (this simple recipe I followed always when the table was champagne, and the conversation was about politics).

- How to see emptiness?
- See yourself, ' said the Baron. - Sorry for the involuntary pun.

The crowd was the most mixed, but most were, as it usually happens in the history of mankind, warthog-faced speculators and expensively dressed ***her.

Deception and, perhaps, the greatest of women's secrets is that beauty seems to be a label, behind which is hidden something immeasurably greater, something unspeakably more desirable than herself, and she had only points, whereas actually she was nothing special there... the Golden label on the empty bottle, the Store where everything is exposed to great removed the window, and hidden behind her small, delicate, narrow, narrow room... Yes, in this room - empty.

Imagine that everything that can give a wonderful woman is one hundred percent.
Now, ninety percent it gives in that moment when you just see it, and the rest, which is the whole millennial bargaining, only a tiny residue. And those first ninety percent is impossible to lay out any components, because beauty is indefinable and indivisible, whatever was lying Schopenhauer. And as for the other ten, then it's just a collection of nerve signals that do not cost anything, they don't come to the aid of imagination and memory...

beauty is unattainable. More precisely, it is achievable, but only to herself and looking after her drunk with passion, the mind simply does not exist.

But we still burning desire for him to leave, and rushes butterfly consciousness from nowhere to nowhere.

Why, I thought, why does any social cataclysm in this world leads to the fact that POPs up is a dark cattle and makes everyone else live according to their vile and conspiratorial laws?

I never really understood my poems, for a long time knowing that the authorship is doubtful thing, and all that is required of someone who took up the pen and bent over the sheet of paper is to build many scattered like keyholes in one line, so that through them on paper suddenly fell a ray of sunshine.

- You have a vivid imagination, ' said Anna. - Is it sort of a dirty car excites you all these thoughts?
- You, of course not, ' I said. I'm just trying to be nice. Actually I think about something else.