Во?представ??представ? чт?я запихива?те? сейчас ?ящи? ?чт?ты предпочтеш? быть живы?ил?мертвы? Конечн? живы? Потому чт?жизн??ящике лучш? че?не жизн?вообще. По-моем? По крайне?мере есть шанс. Лежишь себе ?думаеш??ладн? по крайне?мере я жи? Кт?нибудь вс?таки придет ?постучит ?скажет: выходи.

Мы никому ничего не должны. Гильденстерн. Мы влипли. Каждый твой поступок, пуст?ничтожны? порождае?другой, неизвестно гд? неизвестно че? ?то??третий ?та?дале? замкнуты?круг. Та?чт?смотри ?об??навостри уш? Будь остороже??следуй инструкц?? ?вс?буде??по?дк?

Правдиво только то, чт?принимается за правдиво? Такова плат?за существовани? Можн?быть нищи? но вс??по?дк? пока есть тако?покрытие ?пока ег?можн?разменять. Челове?основывает? на предположения?

?Ну, ну... скор?буде?не вс?дома... гм... ждат?погром?.. ну же... (Быстро.) Слушай, бывало ?тобо?когд?нибудь ?внезапно ?бе?всякого повода ?идиотско?ощущение, чт?не знаешь, ка?пишется «жена» ?ил?«дом? ?хо? ст?ра?писа?эт?слов??но ощущение тако? будт?никогд?не виде?букв, ст?щи??тако?по?дк?

Цель, ?сущности, ничт? ?возвышае?на?не цель, ?сама жажд?познан?. Инач?мы покине?се?ми?та?же тихо, ка?пришли.

Один китаез? из династии Та? ?по мнению некоторы? большо?филосо? ?ем?однажд?приснилось, чт?он ?бабочк? ??этой минуты он уж?никогд?не бы?полность?уверен, чт?он не бабочк? которо?снит?, чт?он?китайски?философ…

? ? ну эт?.. Ты имеешь ?виду, чт?первое мн?приходит ?br /> голову?
? Не?- каку?вещь ты прежде всег?вспоминаеш?
? Аг? (Пауз?) Не помн? ?вс?забы? Эт?же было та?br /> давн?..
? (спокойно, но настойчиво). Ты не по?? я спрашива? чт?br /> ты вспоминаеш?первым посл?всег? чт?забы?
? ? ясн? (Пауз?) ?забы?вопрос.

?колонках играет - Red Hot Chili Peppers - Otherside
?отвеча?на критик? выдвинутую против ме? фанатами сумере? Некоторо?время наза?я сказал ?интервью, чт?Майе?не може?написать достойну?мистическу?истори? Многие фаны сказал? чт?я просто завиду?успеху Стефан?Майе? ?он?абсолютн?прав? То?факт, чт?ее книг?были распроданы тиражо?боле?че??40 мл? копи? делает мо?350 мл? копи?мелочь? Сумерк?такж?попали ??10ку книг по выбору читателе?Американской Библиотечной Ассоциации. Мо?же 5 Horror GuildAwards, (5 премий международно?гильди?ужасов) World Fantasy Life Achievement Award, (мирово?фэнтез?- наград?за пожизненны?достижен? ?област?ли?ры) Hugo Award ?Destinguish Contribution to American Letters Award (за выдающий? вкла??американскую ли?ру) смот?тся по сравнени??этим довольно скромн? Но мн?пр?тн?думать, чт?если бы ? ? Эллиот, Джордж Оруэлл ?Чарльз Диккен?были живы, то он?бы тоже завидовали Стефан?Майе? Фанаты ? Майе?такж?прав? когд?он?гово?? чт?я пытаюс?выделить? за счет ее успеха. Вс??мире слышал??сумерках ?ег?сиквелах: Новолуни? Затмении ?Ломая рассве? Но кт?слышал ?Кэрр? Сияни? Кристине, Он? Кладбище домашних животных, Мизери,Зелено?миле ?особенно ?сериал?Темн? башня? Динамизм ?описании ?многое другое ?книгах Майе?делает мо?романы, совешенн?обычны?вещи, ка?Противостояни? Мешо??костями ?Сердца ?Атлантид?потугами умственн?ограниченног?двухлетнег? Некоторы?люди такж?сказал? чт?я завиду?экранизация?Сумере? ??очередно?ра?он?не могл?оказаться боле?правым? Фильмы, сняты?по моим книгам, таки?ка?Кэрр?- номинированный на 2 Оскара, Остань? со мной, номинированный на Оска? Мизери - лауреа?Оска? Зеленая ми? - номинированный на 2 Оскара,Сияни?- широко признанный лучшим фильмо?ужасов на вс?времен?- ?Побе?из Шоушенка - номинированный на 7 статуэто?Киноакадемии ?недавн?признанный лучшим фильмо?на IMDb - никогд?не буду?считаться высшей наградой. Не верите мн? Посмотрите на режиссеров, которы?экранизировали мо?работы. Дэви?Кроненберг, Джордж Ромеро, Джон Карпенте? Брайан Сингер, Ро?Райнер, Фрэн?Дарабонт, Стэнли Кубрик! - никт?из ни?не сравнится ?режиссером Сумере?Кэтрин Хардви? чьим ?предыдущим?фильмами были Короли Догтауна ?Рождение Христа. ?качестве альтернативы посмотрите на состав Сумере? Кристе?Стюарт, Роберт Паттинсо? Кэмд Джигандэ ?Пите?Фачинэлл?- эт?молоды?звезды очевидно буду?запомнен? не то чт?актеры ?актрис? снявшие? ?моих экранизация?- Джек Николсон, Иэ?Маккелле? Энтони Хопкин? Кэти Бэйт? Джонни Депп, Кристофе?Уоке? Морган Фримен, Сэмюэл ? Джексо??То?Хэнк? Те?не мене? я хоте?бы извинить? ?перетрактовать мо?прежне?утверждени??продолжить запись, гово?, чт?ва?рома??напыщенном блес?ще?вампир?не написа?плох? ?не являет? не оригинальным. ?ни?не имею?никакого сравнения Грозовой перева?ил??работы Эн?Райс, ?факт, чт?эт?ИЗУМИТЕЛЬНАЯ КНИЖКА. Именно та? ИЗУМИТЕЛЬНАЯ КНИЖКА! Спасиб?ва? Стефан?Майе? за то, чт?написали эт?ИЗУМИТЕЛЬНУЮ КНИЖКУ! иВ?являетес?таки?вдохновением, поэтом?я реши?написать социальн?- острую эпическу?книг?"По?куполо? моим следующи?романо? вместо создан? какого-нибудь дерьма пр?вампиров ил?ещ?чь?нибудь ?этом роде. Надеюс? эт?буде?ИЗУМИТЕЛЬНАЯ КНИЖКА! ?пойд?считат?свои деньги ?глядеть на свои наград? но, чт?я ?дела? я буду думать мрачно ?Стефан?Майе??ее ИЗУМИТЕЛЬНОЙ КНИЖКЕ!

I used to think that humor was the only way to appreciate how wonderful and terrible the world is, to celebrate how big life is. But now I think the opposite. Humor is a way of shrinking from that wonderful and terrible world.

But more than that, no unloving words were ever spoken, and everything was held up as another small piece of proof that it can be this way, it doesn't have to be that way; if there is no love in the world, we will make a new world, and we will give it heavy walls, and we will furnish it with soft red interiors, from the inside out, and give it a knocker that resonates like a diamond falling to a jeweler's felt so that we should never hear it. Love me, because love doesn't exist, and I have tried everything that does.

It feels like a moment I've lived a thousand times before, as if everything is familiar, right up to the moment of my death, that it will happen again an infinite number of times, that we will meet, marry, have our children, succeed in the ways we have, fail in the ways we have, all exactly the same, always unable to change a thing. I am again at the bottom of an unstoppable wheel, and when I feel my eyes close for death, as they have and will a thousand times, I awake.

Words never mean what we want them to mean.

In the end, everyone loses everyone. There was no invention to get around that, and so I felt, that night, like the turtle that everything else in the universe was on top of.

When I was your age, my grandfather bought me a ruby bracelet. It was too big for me and would slide up and down my arm. It was almost a necklace. He later told me that he had asked the jeweler to make it that way. Its size was supposed to be a symbol of his love. More rubies, more love. But I could not wear it comfortably. I could not wear it at all. So here is the point of everything I have been trying to say. If I were to give a bracelet to you, now, I would measure your wrist twice.

Sometimes I can hear my bones straining under the weight of all the lives I'm not living.

So many people enter and leave your life! Hundreds of thousands of people! You have to keep the door open so they can come in! But it also means you have to let them go!

Shyness is when you turn your head away from something you want. Shame is when you turn your head away from something you do not want.

I spent my life learning to feel less. Every day I felt less. Is that growing old? Or is it something worse? You can not protect yourself from sadness without protecting yourself from happiness.

I'm so afraid of losing something I love, that I refuse to love anything.

It's the tragedy of loving, you can't love anything more than something you miss.

Time was passing like a hand waving from a train I wanted to be on. I hope you never think about anything as much as I think about you.

It broke my heart into more pieces than my heart was made of, why can't people say what they mean at the time?

The mistakes I've made are dead to me. But I can't take back the things I never did.

I love you also means I love you more than anyone loves you, or has loved you, or will love you, and also, I love you in a way that no one loves you, or has loved you, or will love you, and also, I love you in a way that I love no one else, and never have loved anyone else, and never will love anyone else.

I like to see people reunited, I like to see people run to each other, I like the kissing and the crying, I like the impatience, the stories that the mouth can't tell fast enough, the ears that aren't big enough, the eyes that can't take in all of the change, I like the hugging, the bringing together, the end of missing someone.

Why didn't I learn to treat everything like it was the last time. My greatest regret was how much I believed in the future.

I regret that it takes a life to learn how to live.

I think and think and think, I‘ve thought myself out of happiness one million times, but never once into it.

When I looked at you, my life made sense. Even the bad things made sense. They were necessary to make you possible.

I'm sorry for my inability to let unimportant things go, for my inability to hold on to the important things.

He awoke each morning with the desire to do right, to be a good and meaningful person, to be, as simple as it sounded and as impossible as it actually was, happy. And during the course of each day his heart would descend from his chest into his stomach. By early afternoon he was overcome by the feeling that nothing was right, or nothing was right for him, and by the desire to be alone. By evening he was fulfilled: alone in the magnitude of his grief, alone in his aimless guilt, alone even in his loneliness. I am not sad, he would repeat to himself over and over, I am not sad. As if he might one day convince himself. Or fool himself. Or convince others--the only thing worse than being sad is for others to know that you are sad. I am not sad. I am not sad. Because his life had unlimited potential for happiness, insofar as it was an empty white room. He would fall asleep with his heart at the foot of his bed, like some domesticated animal that was no part of him at all. And each morning he would wake with it again in the cupboard of his rib cage, having become a little heavier, a little weaker, but still pumping. And by the midafternoon he was again overcome with the desire to be somewhere else, someone else, someone else somewhere else. I am not sad.

What about little microphones? What if everyone swallowed them, and they played the sounds of our hearts through little speakers, which could be in the pouches of our overalls? When you skateboarded down the street at night you could hear everyone's heartbeat, and they could hear yours, sort of like sonar. One weird thing is, I wonder if everyone's hearts would start to beat at the same time, like how women who live together have their menstrual periods at the same time, which I know about, but don't really want to know about. That would be so weird, except that the place in the hospital where babies are born would sound like a crystal chandelier in a houseboat, because the babies wouldn't have had time to match up their heartbeats yet. And at the finish line at the end of the New York City Marathon it would sound like war

Does it break my heart, of course, every moment of every day, into more pieces than my heart was made of, I never thought of myself as quiet, much less silent, I never thought about things at all, everything changed, the distance that wedged itself between me and my happiness wasn't the world, it wasn't the bombs and burning buildings, it was me, my thinking, the cancer of never letting go, is ignorance bliss, I don't know, but it's so painful to think, and tell me, what did thinking ever do for me, to what great place did thinking ever bring me? I think and think and think, I've thought myself out of happiness one million times, but never once into it.

I feel too much. That's what's going on.' 'Do you think one can feel too much? Or just feel in the wrong ways?' 'My insides don't match up with my outsides.' 'Do anyone's insides and outsides match up?' 'I don't know. I'm only me.' 'Maybe that's what a person's personality is: the difference between the inside and outside.' 'But it's worse for me.' 'I wonder if everyone thinks it's worse for him.' 'Probably. But it really is worse for me.

We need enormous pockets, pockets big enough for our families and our friends, and even the people who aren't on our lists, people we've never met but still want to protect. We need pockets for boroughs and for cities, a pocket that could hold the universe.

Why are you leaving me? He wrote, I do not know how to live. I do not know either but I am trying. I do not know how to try. There were some things I wanted to tell him. But I knew they would hurt him. So i buried them and let them hurt me.

I don't think that there are any limits to how excellent we could make life seem.

The only thing more painful than being an active forgetter is to be an inert rememberer.

It has shown me that everything is illuminated in the light of the past. It is always along the side of us...on the inside, looking out.

My life story is the story of everyone I've ever met

Feathers filled the small room. Our laughter kept the feathers in the air. I thought about birds. Could they fly is there wasn't someone, somewhere, laughing?

Every widow wakes one morning, perhaps after years of pure and unwavering grieving, to realize she slept a good night’s sleep, and will be able to eat breakfast, and doesn’t hear her husband’s ghost all the time, but only some of the time. Her grief is replaced with a useful sadness. Every parent who loses a child finds a way to laugh again. The timbre begins to fade. The edge dulls. The hurt lessens. Every love is carved from loss. Mine was. Yours is. Your great-great-great-grandchildren’s will be. But we learn to live in that love.

You are the only one who has understood even a whisper of me, and I will tell you that I am the only person who has understood even a whisper of you.

I imagine a line, a white line, painted on the sand and on the ocean, from me to you.

There’s nothing wrong with not understanding yourself.

Everyone always wants to know how you can tell when it's true love, and the answer is this: when the pain doesn't fade and the scars don't heal, and it's too damned late.
The tears threaten to return, so I willfully banish all thoughts from my head and take a few more deep breaths. I'm suddenly dizzy from the panic attack I've just suffered, and I close my eyes, resting my head against the warm leather of my steering wheel. Loneliness doesn't exist on any single plane of consciousness. It's generally a low throb, barely audible, like the hum of a Mercedes engine in park, but every so often the demands of the highway call for a burst of acceleration, and the hum becomes a thunderous, elemental roar, and once again you're reminded of what this baby's carrying under the hood.

You have to look at what you have right in front of you, at what it could be, and stop measuring it against what you've lost. I know this to be wise and true, just as I know that pretty much no one can do it.

We all start out so damn sure, thinking we've got the world on a string. If we ever stopped to think about the infinite number of ways we could be undone, we'd never leave our bedrooms

You never know when it will be the last time you'll see your father, or kiss your wife, or play with your little brother, but there's always a last time. If you could remember every last time, you'd never stop grieving.

It would be a terrible mistake to go through life thinking that people are the sum total of what you see.

I wake up like this, this sense that I've somehow been transported to an alternate universe where my life took a left instead of a right because of some seemingly insignificant yet cosmically crucial choice I've made, about a girl or a kiss or a date or a job or which Starbucks I went into...something.

At some point, being angry is just another bad habit, like smoking, and you keep poisoning yourself without thinking about it.

Sometimes it's heartbreaking to see your siblings as the people they've become. Maybe that's why we all stay away from each other as a matter of course.

I would have done the same thing I did. I would have put all my energy into loving someone that wasn't you. I would have tried in vain, every day, to not think about you, and what could have been. What should have been. I would have tried to convince myself that there's no such thing as true love, except for the love you yourself make work, even though I know better....The bottom line is I never had any business marrying anyone who wasn't you.

Life, for the most part, inevitably becomes routine, the random confluence of timing and fortune that configures its components all but forgotten. But every so often, I catch a glimpse of my life out of the corner of my eye, and am rendered breathless by it.

Above us, the moon hangs like a fat blister on the feel of the sky, ready to burst in a spray of viscous white pus

Childhood feels so permanent, like it's the entire world, and then one day it's over and you're shoveling wet dirt onto your father's coffin, stunned at the impermanence of everything.

?колонках играет - Driveshaft - Last Call
?Помниш?старый мульти?пр?койота, которы?го?лся за птичко? Та?койо?несется по вершин?хребта, добегает до обрыва ?ещ?некоторо?время продолжает бежать, ?пото?вдру?смотри?вниз ?обнаруживает, чт?бежи?по воздух?
?Ну?
?Знаешь, ?говори?он, ?мн?всегда было интересн? чт?было бы, не посмотри он вниз. Оставался бы воздух вс?таки?же тверды? пока он не добежи?до противоположного кр?? ?дума? оставался бы, ?ещ?я дума? чт?со всем?нами происходит то же само? Мы устрем?ем? вперед, чере?обры? не сводя глаз ?те?веще? которы?имею?значение, но пото?нечт??каки?то страхи, неуверенност??себе ?вынуждае?на?посмотреть вниз. ?тогд?мы понимаем, чт?бежи?по воздух? на?охватывает паника, ?мы разворачиваемся ?сломя голову несемся наза? ?если бы не смотрели вниз, то просто перебежали бы на другую сторон? Туда, гд?находится то, чт?имее?значение.

?колонках играет - Eels - Christmas Is Going To The Dogs

If a god is willing to prevent evil, but not able, then he is not omnipotent. If he is able, but not willing, then he must be malevolent. If he is neither able or willing then why call him a god? Why else do bad things happen to good people?

Somebody once said that religion was deemed by the commoners as true, by the wise as false, and by the rulers as useful.

There are now so many faiths registered in this town, it gets kind of hard to be original.

These days, you can form a congregation simply based on washing-machine instructions.

You see, without faith, it's difficult to be controlled.

I'm just saying that it isn't just about your family, your friends, the people you leave behind. It's about the people you haven't met yet. A person can stay inside themselves for too long and end up blind, like not recognising your own voice on tape or...


?I heard this story once when I was a kid, or read it. It was about a storyteller who was so good at telling stories that everything he made up became real. So the storyteller creates a world for himself where he's the king of the castle, has a beautiful princess on his arm. And then, one day, he wakes up. He looks around. He kisses her on the cheek and... legs it.
?Why?
?I don't know. Even though his life was perfect, absolutely perfect, he had the feeling he should be somewhere else. With someone else. Anyway, the princess wakes up and he's gone. And that's it. I guess. Does that make any sense?
—No

When you're lost, you're willing to believe anything. In this city, every religion promised a future, whether in this world or the next. All you had to pay them with was your faith and trust and, despite the celebration, the reverence and the prayer, everybody ends up in the same human mess. Old. Sick. Unhappy. Dead.

The world is full of people sent here to help us. Most of the time, we just don't see them.

But don't get me wrong. This wasn't fate. For every soul of this deluded population who believed in fate's comic clockwork, they neglect to see the wear and tear beneath the surface. The teeth that grind into the cogs. The damage that fate causes so many in its selfish journey towards just one favourable consequence.

If you believe in something strongly enough, who's to say if it's real or not?

By believing passionately in something that still does not exist, we create it. The nonexistent is whatever we have not sufficiently desired.

By imposing too great a responsibility, or rather, all responsibility, on yourself, you crush yourself.

Hiding places there are innumerable, escape is only one, but possibilities of escape, again, are as many as hiding places.

In argument similes are like songs in love; they describe much, but prove nothing.

In theory there is a possibility of perfect happiness: To believe in the indestructible element within one, and not to strive towards it.

It is not necessary that you leave the house. Remain at your table and listen. Do not even listen, only wait. Do not even wait, be wholly still and alone. The world will present itself to you for its unmasking, it can do no other, in ecstasy it will writhe at your feet.

My "fear" is my substance, and probably the best part of me.

Not everyone can see the truth, but he can be it.

There are only two things. Truth and lies. Truth is indivisible, hence it cannot recognize itself; anyone who wants to recognize it has to be a lie.

There is nothing besides a spiritual world; what we call the world of the senses is the Evil in the spiritual world, and what we call Evil is only the necessity of a moment in our eternal evolution.

?Five hundred years ago, radio would have seemed like magic. Five hundred years in the future, it could be totally normal to communicate with the other side.
?The other side?...There is no other side?This is it. Lobster and breadrolls and nautical kitch and then nothingness.

?You are skeptical. Nevertheless, it's true we are plumbing the depths of the human soul. Do you know what's down there? Do you know what your soul is made of?
?Frogs and snails and puppy dogs' tails?

?Tell me the truth.
?Truth. Darth Vader? Luke's father.

?If I tell you how it's done, the magic circle will send a team of assassins to kill us all. It's the law.

?колонках играет - Solomon Burke - Soul Searchin'
«Around here, however, we don't
look backwards for very long.

We keep moving forward, opening up new doors and
doing new things, because we're curious...
and curiosity keeps leading us down new paths.

Keep moving forward?
Walt Disney