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Telegrams are usually waiting for me at home: Extremely

And above us, someone from above decided everything for us a long time ago.

If times are tough, put a second battery in your watch.

You can't spend your last hours on Earth doubting those around you.

The hands of the clock are two hands that take away our time.

It is not given to us to turn the hourglass of life in order to make time flow in the opposite direction, but how we use every grain of it depends only on us. After all, there will always be someone who “builds a castle out of sand” and someone who simply humbly waits for the last grain to fall down, burying all possible achievements and himself under him.

- A boxer is like a chess player. For every blow there is a defense, for every combination you can find a response. True, a chess player has minutes, sometimes even hours, to think about a move. And the boxer has seconds, sometimes tenths of a second ...

In the dark hours of despair, opposites come together and become friends.

Now I look at bigotry - any type - as a non-viral disease. Sneaking insidiously and ticking like a pendulum clock that never stops, this affliction strikes faster those who are part of a closed, homogenous community. Therefore, I always remind myself that it is better to stay away from all sorts of collective beliefs and beliefs.

Never have I felt so alone, left to my own devices, as in those hours when I realized that I had no real power behind me, except for a completely conventional personal influence on individuals and masses; and the latter, seized with revolutionary ecstasy, were in a state of some kind of hysteria with an instinctive desire for destruction, which is laid in the foundation of the spiritual essence of every person. Once again, I was convinced how easy it is to master a hysterical crowd, how cheap their enthusiasm is, how pitiful the laurels of its leaders, and I did not betray myself and did not follow them. I am not made to be a demagogue - although I could easily become one - I am a soldier accustomed to receiving and giving orders without a hint of politics, and this is possible only in relation to an organized and mechanical mass. For ten days I have been engaged in politics and I feel a deep disgust for it, for my politics is the command of the power that can command me. But it was not there these days, and I had to engage in politics and manage a disorganized hysterical crowd in order to bring it back to normal and suppress the instincts and desire for primitive anarchy.

And the most unhappy life has its bright hours and its flowers of happiness among sand and stones.

The clock on the wall was ticking too loud, too fast. This disturbing, vain sound, coupled with the noise of rain and wind outside the window, made it difficult to fall asleep.

Perhaps we must suffer much because of man, so that in the hours of respite he rewards us with the peace that nature breathes.

In the days before the funeral, I stood for long hours at the coffin and looked at the people passing through the Hall of Columns. They behaved differently. Who carried flowers, who looked with curiosity, many cried. I was frightened because my own feelings were contradictory: I felt pain and relief at the same time, scolding myself for being a bad daughter. For some reason I thought that if I had been born in the shack of an obscure Georgian shoemaker, how easy and natural it would have been for me, along with others, to hate that distant tyrant, his party, his deeds and words. Is it not clear where is black and where is white? But I was born his daughter. Beloved in childhood ... A strange thought ...