Character: Russ Brissenden

Love beauty for its own sake.

If the crumbs of my knowledge, cut my way to truth, is very comforting. Although I have very little interest in whether I am right or wrong. Anyway, it's useless. Man can not know the absolute truth.

Goodness gracious, what do you expect from bourgeois girls. Forget about them. Find the passionate woman, with hot blood, to the fun of life, and mocked with death, and loved while you can.

City, these kingdoms bourgeois will kill you. What is the lair of traders, where I met you. Rotten souls is an understatement. In such an environment, the moral health will not save. She corrupts. They're all corrupt, men and women, each just has a stomach, and intellectual and spiritual needs they have as a clam.

He was a man without a past, whose close future is imminent grave, and now a bitter fever of living.

Death he was not afraid, with a pungent bitterness ridiculed any lifestyle, but, dying, avidly loved life, every crumb of existence. He was obsessed with the insane desire to live, to feel the thrill of life, "to experience for a brief moment, and yet I'm the speck in the starry vortex of existence" as he put it once. He was in danger of trying drugs, going to other strange experiences in the pursuit of a new shake-up for unknown sensations.

Joy is not that your job is a success, a joy when you work.