routine [Theme] Page 3

Now, in hindsight, Anna came to mind the objections that could Express unworldly old mentor. No matter how he lamented that the ordinary deprives the women of the wings, but not a word mentioned that it is often the men wings and pruned, so imperceptibly, the feather plucking, depriving the life and the return of joy. And not only men are necessary and important third-party evaluation of their cases - to women, it is also necessary as if not more.

Happiness is fleeting and much less inclined to fold the wings and to stay away than even luck. Happiness - great, now - it differs with immediacy. Then there are the rest, and the comfort of home, and the habit good, and just the ordinary, and even quarrels and discord. Can't every day to experience happiness, the heart will burst.

On a lonely wire, which went to the house electric current, the invisible punctuation of the phrase black with sparrows and thrushes.

Some nights we fight, we scream,
We don't know what to do
But I guess, it's just the normal things
That people they go through.
There are nights when we argue, scream,
We don't know what to do
But, in my opinion, this is the most ordinary things,
Through which all the people.

Around the city the Routine grows a wall of Extreme.

Sometimes it's difficult to behave as usual.

Do not make yourself an idol
From small things -
From the furnishings and apartments
From doctor visits,
From Sundays and Saturdays,
From reflections on the fate of.
In the end, not at our age
The depression to afford.
Do not make yourself an idol,
Taking the everyday battles
Of the inevitable and sad
Calculations of your profits.
And maybe you went halfway around the world
In the pursuit of his happiness -
Do not make yourself an idol
Neither from itself nor from him.
Do not make yourself an idol
From memory their land,
Of those soldiers and commanders,
That victory came.
Of truths - choose simple
That is not subject to the times
And make yourself an Russia,
How we did it!

There are no miracles. When they are in your life for a moment of time exceeds the limit amount, it becomes a true reality. Wonderful, but commonplace.

Monday through Friday they, as befits respectable citizens, harnessed to dull the reins, to step-by-step pull her to overflowing with life towards inevitable death.

Happiness is a fragile matter. Can destroy it much like time. The longer you're happy, the more commonplace it becomes this state, emotions are blunted, there are new issues and concerns.

What you were born does not define who you will become. <...> The most unusual miracles are the most ordinary things and people.

In a world of contrasts
There are no passionate feelings.
Whether it is "sincere" joy
Or love "perfect"...
Are drawn at speeds of days
Merge into straight lines.
And those pictures we're all alone,
In their greyness lies the sadness.
But I'm a black ember of the soul
On the brush with paint viminal,
Inside find a quiet corner,
And in this world no longer look for me...

Around just black and white, his fingers ran over the keys. He closed his right eye, and the keys are black, shut down the left, and they became white. The melody flowed a continuous stream, like a sad autumn rain, falling down from his fingers and shimmering complex sketches. She was silent, then suddenly intensified, turning into a rumble of chords. Interrupting the game, he turned around and looked at the world with sad eyes. The world in turn gravely looked at him in response. Nothing changed...

When you get used to something, feelings blunted. Sheer repetition.