Character: Max Frye

For a dozen days before the end of the year citizens begin to realize that life is short... trying to do anything they did not reach the hands during the previous two hundred and eighty eight days. To fulfill the promises made to someone, or yourself, pay bills, take your lumps, and even volunteered to rush forward with all possible trouble, lest they be overshadowed by that light the life that supposedly begins after the end of "this terrible year". Practicality, reaching the point of absurdity! In short, the Last Day of the Year is not a holiday, but it's stupid to suddenly start and then suddenly stop hectic activities.

Actually to fight, I really do not know how, but here it is thanks to my unbalanced nature: when I'm really angry, I can do everything.

When a person asks you not to say a word to anyone, I find it easier do not to say a word to anyone. It is enough that all and Sundry can read my mind!

The most important events of life seemed to me at that time never again to give them one by one into the hands of as Christmas gifts: now read the poem, tell Santa Claus thank you, and Hello.

That's crazy - it happens, happens to everybody.

All our wishes come true. Sooner or later, one way or another.

When people work for free, it's too much like the game. It seems that everything is make-believe. And when our work start to pay off, we usually realize that it's actually happening.

Everything, understood, scared, gone!

I'm one of those prudent idlers, who are willing once to work properly, if it is guaranteed to save you from future hassle.

The rule "better late than never" works only in cases when it is not too late.

Business is sacred. Especially someone else's, especially when their is long gone.

All for the best: not every secret has to be divided into two.

It was discovered suddenly that the world consists of several layers: on the surface - a thin cellophane of familiar voices, underneath, the slippery silk of sunlight goes even deeper - the fragile, but the healing gauze bandage familiar domestic interior, and underneath, a thick felt layer of nothingness, darkness, which is felt not with the eyes but the whole body...

Friends, if I could die for you, I would never
did not do such nonsense. Because
the light you no, I already checked...