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He said "chestnut" and waited. But nothing happened. <... > "Chestnut!" It was amazing: when Lucien told his mother: "My beautiful mother", she smiled when he called Germain "gun", she cried and went to complain to her mother. But when he said the word "chestnut," nothing happened. He strained through his teeth, "Nasty tree, nasty chestnut! I'll show you, wait!" and kicked him. But the tree stood calmly and calmly, as if it were wooden.

Sometimes you look at a woman, and she will look at you, and there is an elusive recognition, mutual understanding, in which anything is possible. Or not.

<... > would like her to live alone - like me when Louis left - to know what it would be like in the evenings, after working all day, to return alone to her room, and find it empty, and die of the desire to put her head on someone's shoulder. From where, it is asked, and the strength is taken to get up the next morning, and again go to work, and be charming and cheerful, and encourage everyone, while I would like to die rather than continue such a life.

Abby had one trick to those cases when Red began to behave like an old moron. She remembered the day she fell in love with him.
"It was a beautiful, windy, yellowish-green afternoon..." - she began, and everything returned to her - and this novelty, and a huge new world, magically revealed the minute she first realized that the man whom she had barely noticed for many years was in fact a true treasure. He was perfect, that's what she told herself. And then suddenly, through sagging skin, crumpled eyelids, sunken cheeks and deep depressions at the mouth, through nonsense, stupid stubbornness and the outrageous belief that simple cold logic solves all life's problems, a calm clear-eyed young man again appeared. And Abby again understood what an indescribable happiness it was that she had got this beautiful, handsome prince as her husband.

It is enough to sow lies in society so that it has power over a person.

The bulbs are covered with greenery. It's light and non-heaty. She sighs like a girl kissing her lips.

- I would certainly imagine myself as a housewife.

- At least you have a family. And I grew up in a shelter. I slept in a common room with everyone. And I had nowhere to escape. In my youth, I was harassed a lot. And even women.
We fought a lot. And I wasn't often a winner.
I had nowhere to run, no one to talk to, nowhere to hide. There was no one to talk to me and no one to hug me.
I was able to get through it all.
I thought about how to poison, hang myself, open, but I found the strength to live on.
And you find it. It's not easy, but there, beyond the threshold of maturity... A new world will be waiting for you.
Maybe we'll even become colleagues.
- N-but I'm a stutter...
- That's a good thing.
- P-why?
- You will be able to work very cleverly undercover. No one will bite you, and you will be able to do a lot of good.
Simply... It's such an ordeal along the way. Like all the characters in the books. Of course, there it looks simpler and more beautiful, but believe me. When someone writes your story, it will be just as beautiful.

- Was it the Eiffel Tower?
- She's the one.

She did the reast Pietro?

- How, then, to live?

I have another democratic idol. This time a woman. Spanish Foreign Minister Arancha Gonzalez. Commenting on the words of Sergei Lavrov about the situation around the Catalan separatists, she literally said the following: "There are no political prisoners in Spain, but there are political prisoners." Advanced technologies of Western propaganda - aerobatics!

To endure a long streak of failures in life is like surviving a long cold winter with its cutting wind, ice and snowstorms. But any winter ends sooner or later, even if it seems that it will be eternal. Failure is the same. Whatever happens, do not despair and remember - your spring will definitely come.

She ate a piece of meat - he killed her. Killed!