Character: Leonid

By the way, Zhenya told me the other day that I don’t communicate with enough youth. Now I know what gaslight, abuse and cringe are.

- Madness? This is Sparta!

The interesting thing about life - everything can be replaced, but there is nothing eternal.

Male pain easy comes and quickly goes. Our wounds are physical, and they are insignificant. Wounds women the wounds of the heart, it is endless sorrow, carry that much more bitter.

Crazy, completely stunned, looking around, assessing the size of damage. Above the stone mound is mushroom-shaped cloud of dust.
And the Lord scattered them from there over all the earth... - said Nick, taking a breath. And they ceased to build the city and the tower...
Not only me have such associations...
- Why you can never make everything is clean, quiet and tidy?! with pain in his voice asks me crazy.
- Nature... - I'm trying to make excuses.

I'm not a night owl, I said. - Not an owl and not a morning person. Such animals and not find how I sleep.

- A hot wind on his cheek, the taste of strawberries on your lips, the stars in the sky, the touch of warm water... in the Summer... It goes so fast, no time to shout "wait!" And I think for a long time it seems that it's still here. In the fingertips is the memory, the memory of summer. A shiver, a spasm, his head outstretched toward the rain, quiet laughter and the occasional smile - summer... still summer. You say that it's already gone, but you are looking for traces of it, running late, no time... But still summer. And you go on his fading footsteps... two hours in the car, three hours by plane, a little walk we go! I don't know where. Come. All for the summer. Small-premalekha. Timid piece of the stragglers of the summer. That's all it takes, otherwise you'll die from the heat... in the Summer...
- Genghis... - I said softly. He had not heard. He caught up with her summer.
- Give me my piece of the summer... And he is with me. Forever. My summer. What was, what is, what will be. Summer forever! I remember how it goes. As the yellow sun melts into the crimson sunset. As the wind begins to smell like snow. I smiled to the wind. I asked him: "Wait!" Slightly! Leave me a little bit of summer! And the wind saw people like me, not once. While it was warm - he did not argue with me. But it was cold, and the wind whispered, "Summer is over". I have believed not at once. But the summer was over. The rain has gone. Cold, dull, gray. <...>
Behind our backs he heard a whimper. I turned around.
Bitch stood against the wall and wiped the tears dirty handkerchief.
- Genghis... He pipe and blew his nose. - Genghis, sing once more about summer? Huh? I do not remember everything. Whatever... "raspberry mouth", "I will long drive a Bicycle"...
- You're a heartless bastard, snarled Genghis. - Heartless and unromantic.
- I? I'm a step down. But you already smoked. But I'll forgive you, Genghis. You only have about summer... Listen, about the spring of the same?
- I can't. Spring is between winter and summer, it is not self-sufficient.

- That I can hide forever, ' says a Dark Diver. - Unlike you.
Smiling, looking at him. Evil is afraid of a smile more than a cross and Holy water. All the meanness done with a serious face. All the filth comes from the fact that someone was scared of a smile. No matter his or someone else's.

No, not Fig leaves used by Adam and eve to cover their shame from God. Made myself the baton, and once the shame is gone.

This world will live, will fall to learn to stand up. He will not be forced to speak someone who wants to remain silent. Do not shut your mouth who wants to talk. And maybe it will be better.

I add:
- Please... let's not give these bastards the pleasure to get us!
I think I said something wrong.
- The good, the contrary evil? - interested in a Loser.
- And how else? - suddenly entered the conversation with the Mage. He flopped into a chair, laid the leg in the leg and suddenly became serious. - If no point of reference - then it loses its meaning.

You know, it probably - in us you say I surprised myself. - For me you are a man... because I would like to be your friend.

When a woman in anger, the man is better not to resist.

I will never believe that God created woman from Adam's rib. No, as a man of clay, but quite of another kind. It is very different reasons we find for anger.