You Are Eternity's Hostage A Captive Of

All Mothers Are Mothers Of Great People, And It Is Not Their Fault That Life Later Disappoints Them.

As Before The Collapse, The Setting Sun Brushed The Tiles, Brought Out The Warm Brown Glow On The Wallpaper, And Hung The Shadow Of The Birch On The Wall As If It Were A Woman's Scarf.

And So It Turned Out That Only A Life Similar To The Life Of Those Around Us, Merging With It Without A Ripple, Is Genuine Life, And That An Unshared Happiness Is Not Happiness.

During The Last Years Of Mayakovski's Life, When All Poetry Had Ceased To Exist . . . Literature Had Stopped.

They Don't Ask Much Of You. They Only Want You To Hate The Things You Love And To Love The Things You Despise.