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Chamomile looked at the happy fluttering songbird with some special respect, but did not envy her at all and was not sad that she herself could neither fly nor sing. I

Chamomile didn’t care at all that she was such a poor, simple flower that no one sees or notices in the thick grass; no, she was happy with everything, greedily reached out to the sun, admired it and listened to the lark singing somewhere high, high in the sky.

We believe and know that Great Russia will rise and be restored then, and only then, when we rise and rise in prayerful power. For Russia is us, each and all, although it is greater than each and all. For each of us, in his feat, gathers and builds Russia, and in his inertia and fall, ruins and dishonors it.

I came up with a thing. It’s very embarrassing, but what can you do? You have to eat. When the rain subsides, I sometimes run to a nearby place to visit a familiar baster maker. In the evenings he dances to the gramophone. They dance the foxtrot. Must be a dog dance. I’ll stand on my hind legs, pull up my stomach, spin around and nod my head. All the couples will stop dancing... They will gather in a circle and laugh so hard that you can’t hear the gramophone. And they order me such a portion of meat that I can barely get home. Moreover, I’ll bring a veal bone in my teeth for breakfast... That’s how much you have to humiliate yourself for the sake of hunger!

Polad Bulbul oglyYour roadromantic quotesloveinevitability, rock, fate

In fact, she, of course, did not care about his well-being. I wanted him to sit next to her and say how amazing she was, and his eyes would sparkle with admiration and delight. What the hell is money - everything is secondary. Moreover, what the hell is sex, which everyone and everywhere pushes as almost the main driver of human actions? Ugh, and grind! Leave this primitiveness to Uncle Freud. In the living human soul everything is much more complicated.

At first it seemed like it was even fun to invent characters and their actions, pull strings, move the plot here or there. And then suddenly it turned out that there was no mention of any invention, that the plot was moving not according to her wishes, but according to its own, that actions were not invented, but happened as if by themselves. The famous Pushkin Imagine,

I believe in man, in his amazing vitality, which does not fade even at the bottom of a deep ditch and is capable of helping him overcome the greatest degeneration, and I believe: this vitality is so strong and so tempting that it will always be felt as hope and as challenge, and that force that allows a person to dream about his high possibilities and again and again brings him out of the bestial state is always the same, no matter what it is called: today - religion, tomorrow - reason, the day after tomorrow - somehow differently.

She felt herself losing touch with reality, but could not stop the irreversible process. The roots of dreams grew deeper and deeper into reality. The boundary between sleep and reality day after day became dim and erased, as if drawn with chalk on the asphalt, forcing Alice to doubt the authenticity of what was happening.

She perfectly mastered the gift of filling space with herself, instantly turning those around her into faceless extras. Some sincerely admired her charisma, others quietly hated her, covering up envy with hostility.

Surprise - Alice continued to call him that way - broke the system, bursting into her dreams with a fresh wind. He was the only piece of the puzzle over which she had no power - a surreal prize won from Morpheus himself.

How can you give anything to your family, to society, if you don't know how to love yourself? Everything you say - I love my mom, dad - is all nonsense. It doesn't mean anything. Because you have an expectation towards these people. And you call it love. And if these expectations are not met, then love will also dissolve in space.

Life consists of millions of stories; life itself is one continuous story.