M Privhanin love. Love Mikhail Privina: parting, mistakes and fateful meeting
Mikhail Mikhailovich Svarvina is rightly called the singer of Russian land. In his works, the surrounding nature becomes the main character, on the pages of essays and leads with incredible completeness and fine details, forests, fields, meadows are identified. He was applied to nature, as if putting the feelings in these descriptions, which he was so lacked in life.
First discovery
A servant in the house of the commune worked intricate, mixing and snarling Dunyasha. Misha often noticed that he swept the floor or rubbing him with a cloth, Dunyash highly raises his skirt, as if demonstrating his legs to the teenage. The teenager was embarrassed, blushed and diligently allotted from the snow-white skin of a frequency seducer. She clearly sympathized with the Master's boy and was trying to win, if not his heart, then his body.
In a minute, when the proximity of Dunyushi and Mikhail became possible, the boy suddenly realized how his heart protests against such relationships. It is difficult to say where such thoughts come from in the head. But he felt that simple carnal pleasures would not bring him happiness if they were not supported by a deep feeling.
Varegnka.
Mikhail Mikhailovich himself describes his feelings after the failed proximity in the diaries. It was this episode that forced the future writer to think about the difficulties of his nature, who postponed the imprint on his own further life. The thirst for love was inexplicably getting around in it along with the denial of the temptation. It turned to a man with a personal drama when he met the one that I sincerely loved.
Mikhail Svtain, a university student, in 1902 he went on vacation to Paris. In this city, as if created for love, there was a meeting of the future writer with Varna, the student Sorbonne Varvara Petrovna Izmalkova studied history, was a daughter of a major official from St. Petersburg. Roman between Barbara and Mikhail rapidly skidded in love. They spent together days and nights enthusiastically talking about everything in the world. Bright, happy, filled with feelings and emotions days. But everything broke in three weeks. Privhanin vinyl in this itself and his idealistic expectations.
The young man could not even imagine that he would insul a beloved by physical lust. He idolized his vamraka, he admired her and could not touch his dream. The girl wished the simple female happiness, ordinary life with children. Varnka wrote a letter to parents and showed him to his beloved. She told about her relationship with Mikhail, already imagining a future family life. But so much of her aspiration differed from the idea of \u200b\u200bthe future that the difference of views on love and led to the bitter disappointment and rupture. Barbar ruined the letter.
After many years, the writer admits that this event will make him a writer. Not finding consolation in love, Mikhail Mikhailovich will look for him in writing. The image of Varia, which is in his dreams, will inspire it and encourage the writing of new and new works.
Later, Svarvin made one attempt to rapprocherate with his muse. And he himself did not use it. He wrote Varvar Petrovna about his restless feelings. The girl answered him by appointing a meeting. But the writer shamefully confused the date of the date, and Varya could not forgive him this laughter, refusing to listen to his explanations.
Efrosinia Pavlovna Sobalov
Long and painfully worried Mikhail's loss of his perfect love. Sometimes it seemed to him that he was really going crazy. The writer was already for 40, when a young woman who survived his husband's death was met. On her hands there was a one-year-old child, and her view of her huge eyes is so sad that the writer first just regret Fros. The charm of the idea of \u200b\u200bthe fault of the intelligentsia to ordinary people, which has become infected with Privine, led to the conclusion of marriage. The writer tried on the role of the Savior. He sincerely believed that he could from the uneducated and rude efrosigny to cut a real beautiful woman by the power of his love. But too different were them with frost. The girl from the frivolous sad peasant woman very quickly turned into a powerful and pretty grumpy wife.
Sensitive and very wounded Svavin began to avoid spouse society more often. He began to travel a lot in Russia, admiring the greatness and uniqueness of nature. At the same time, he will work a lot, trying to escape from his catastrophic loneliness and misunderstanding of loved ones. He vinyl in his loneliness only himself, Callery for an excessive hurry and inability to learn the soul of another person.
A rather unhappy marriage, which brought a lot of suffering to the writer, lasted over 30 years. And all this time, Mikhail Mikhailovich was waiting for some miracle, excellent getting rid of his spiritual wounds and painful desire of happiness. He often mentioned in his diaries that he still hopes to meet with the only one who can become the light of his whole life for him.
Valeria Dmitrievna Leorko (Lebedeva)
Mikhail Mikhailovich turned 67 years old. By this time, he already lived separately from his wife. The famous and recognized writer has long thought about the edition of his diaries, but he all lacked forces, time and patience to disassemble numerous archives. He decided to hire the secretary, by no means a woman who will differ special delicacy. The diaries were too many personal, hidden, infinitely expensive heart of the writer.
On January 16, 1940, a forty-haired Valery Dmitrievna knocked on the door of Svarvina. She had a difficult life, two marriages behind the shoulders and persecution from power for her noble origin. The work of Mikhail Mikhailovich could become a real salvation for her.
The first meeting was pretty dry. Mikhail and Valeria were for some reason mutually each other are not pretty. However, collaboration, gradual recognition of each other led to the emergence of sympathy, and then the very deep, beautiful feeling, in anticipation of which Mikhail Mikhailovich lived all his life.
Valeria Dmitrievna became for the writer his evening star, his happiness, a dream, his perfect woman. Working on the writer's diaries opened Valeria Dmitrievna All new facets of the person's personality. Transferring his thoughts into typewritten tex, the woman was increasingly convinced of the surrenders of his employer. Thin sensuality and endless loneliness of the writer found a response to his secretary's heart. And together with the knowledge of his thoughts, an understanding of the relatives of their souls came.
They told clock and could not speak until late evening. In the morning, Mikhail Mikhailovich hurried to open the door, ahead of the housekeeper to see his Valery rather.
He wrote a lot about her, about his feelings for this amazing woman, he scared his feelings and was very afraid to be rejected. And hoped that at the end of life was still able to gain his happiness. And all his hopes and dreams suddenly became his own fairy tale. Valeria Dmitrievna did not see the old man in him, she felt a male strength in the writer and depth.
The spouse of Svarvina, having learned about Mikhail Mikhailovich's relationship with Valeria, arranged a real scandal. She complained about the Writers' Union and categorically did not agree to divorce. For the sake of the opportunity to terminate the marriage had to sacrifice my apartment. Only in exchange for re-issuing housing for her Efrosinia Pavlovna agreed to give freedom to Mikhail Mikhailovich.
From this point, the life of the prose transformed. He loved and was loved. He met his perfect woman who was looking for all his life.
Crystal years
Favorite Lyal gave the writer all what was dreaming of in his youth. Romanticism Svavina was supplemented by her open straightness. Openly admitting his feelings, she prompted Mikhail Mikhailovich to decisive actions. She gave the Writer of the Force to fight at the time when everyone fell against their gentle novel.
And they survived, overcame all obstacles to their marriage. The writer took his Valery in a fabulous outback, in the village of Rolling under Bronnitsy. The last 8 years of life of the writer held spouses in the village of Dunino Odintsovo district of the Moscow region. They enjoyed their late happiness, their love, the community of views on feelings and events. Crystal years, as named Svain.
The spouses wrote together the book "We are with you. Diaries of love. " In this diary, their feelings, their views, their happiness were described very detailed. The writer was not blinded, he completely noticed the shortcomings of his wife, but they absolutely did not interfere with him to be happy.
January 16, 1954, on the day of fourteen years dating writer with his evening star, Mikhail Mikhailovich Svtaine left this world. Having met his love at sunset, having fun and peace, he left absolutely happy.
As opposed to calm happiness in adulthood, it is interesting to know about.
10th April 1940. The famous writer Mikhail Privhanin in Zagorsk (so then called Sergiev Posad) says goodbye to his wife, Euphrosinia Pavlovna. They lived together more than three decades, they raised two sons. And now he collects things. To go to another. In 67 years!
It did not work in a good part. The spouse threatens violence and death. I advises to dry crumbs and fear Strichnina. Children are also not delighted with the decision of the Father. But in a different way, he cannot do. Your diary later the writer will entrust such lines:
Although I have the right to live with a friend, which is close to my soul? Yes, Euphrosin Pavlovna I loved and lived with her according to, but do you know that I have always been alone? After all, she, although smart, never understood me.
But why did Navnine decided to a painful gap with his wife only after three decades of life? Why did he dream all his life? And how did he fall in love with pensions?
Shameful error
Svarvin once recorded: "The first difficult thing in life is to marry happily, the second, even more difficult - to die happily." Mikhail Mikhailovich was looking for his family happiness all his life. The first time found in Paris. In the city of Love, the future writer was not in his will. In 1897, when the flame was only fought, for participating in the activities of the Marxist circle, he was arrested and was placed on a single chamber for a year. After the liberation, Svhavin is forced to leave abroad, studying the land management engineer. And there, in France, he meets her, Varnka. Varvaru Petrovna Izmalkov. Beautiful lady, Versailles, "Morning Star".
A student of the historic faculty of sorbonna, daughter of a large Petersburg official, in the future - correspondent of Alexander Bloka. Three weeks they turn the novel. The case goes to the wedding, but suddenly - without visible reasons - it cuts him sharply:
To the one I once loved, I presented the requirements that she could not fulfill. I could not humiliate her animal feeling - this was my madness. And she wanted an ordinary marriage. The knot rose over me for life, and I became a hunchback.
A year later, he takes an attempt to cut out this node. Sends a letter to Varvar - with a request to start all over again. She comes to St. Petersburg and prescribes him a date. It would seem that it is - long-awaited happiness! But fate ordered otherwise. Many years later, Mikhail Mikhailovich will call it the "disgraceful moment of his life." It's hard to believe in it, but he ... confused the day. The offended girl leaves back to Paris and sends him a farewell message in which he begs to never look for a meeting with her. Otherwise, threatens to impose on themselves. Soon, Svhavin finds out: Varvara married. For man without high demands and with good memory. Later it turns out: it is not true. But nothing can be changed anyway. The lost bride will dream of him to old age. In the first months after parting with her, Mikhail Mikhailovich is also afraid of acute items and upper floors. To distract, with his head goes to work. It goes in agronomists. Study potatoes ... in gardery and field culture.
Soul suffering
One day, he trusts his weightless thoughts. It becomes as if easier. So the first works are born. He ceases to engage in potatoes. It's seriously taken for the pen and leaves away from heavy memories. In the country of nonpumens birds. Kola Peninsula, Solovetsky Islands, Arkhangelsk, North Arctic Ocean. From long-distance business trips, fairy tales, stories, essays bring. But in the shower continues to suffer. To relieve mental pain, converges with a simple illiterate "first and very good woman" - the peasant of Euphrosinia Pavlovna. The future mother of two sons of Privhanina.
Together they were in joy and in the mountain. After the revolution, on the poor Smolenc region, the house for the writer and his family served ... Hay Shed. It would seem that difficulties should rally spouses, but this does not happen. With each new day, the writer understands: Euphrosinia Pavlovna - this not the woman he was looking for all his life ...
Our union was completely free, and I thought about myself so that if she wonders to go to the other, I will give it away without a fight. I thought about myself - if another, real, then I will leave to this.
But where to look for it, this true? After all, he is already under 70, most of his life - lived. A truly close, a loved one is nearby - there is still no. But there is melancholy and depression. One, very one ... In December 39, the helper of the writer in the house, fearing for his mental health, brought a copper cross from the church on a black shoela. Wear it for the promnity meant to end the dream with a dream to find a favorite woman and friend. Calm down and fervent rest days with family. Take your cross ...
Cherished desire
New, 1940-th year, Svhavin meets in a family circle - in Lavrushinsky. When the chimes beat 12, the households make desires, write on paper and burned on the fire of Kamurni, which the son of the leva writer brought from Bukhara. Mikhail Mikhailovich also picked up a pencil. Posted by the word Cross and extended his hand to the fire. But at the last moment - heard. Posted by "Come" and the note burned.
She came on January 16, 1940. On the coldest day of the coldest Moscow winter. Shortly before that, Svrani throws the cry among friends: find me a girl with a Russian soul. To help bring in order a personal archive. After many years, the brilliant writer will record in his diary:
Day of our meeting with L. Farmland Holiday
L. Lorsko Valeria Dmitrievna. Lyalya. At first glance, she did not like the promsion so much that their first meeting promised to become the last. He called her Poppnaya to himself and gave woolen socks for goodbye. But her legs still frozen
The first meeting was put on Valery Dmitrievna for a long time. From pain could not walk. And also with the hostility recalled the famous author "Zhen Shenya":
After throwing back the gray head, the chunky, an extremely timeless for his age, he expressed confidence and dissemination. I was sitting under the white Venetian chandelier, lace, like a bride, and knew that in her light every hair was viewed on me, each stain. My heart slammed: I realized that I got into someone else's place.
A month later, Valeria Dmitrievna came to the Writer's house again. And it was no longer an alien place. Seven o'clock they spoke about everything except work. Privain - about her loneliness. She also poured the soul. A challenged disease to bed Mother, hard work. The deceased love, arrest and link ... The writer was shocked:
I, perhaps, I do not know such an accident.
A few days later, Mikhail Mikhailovich will tell her:
And if you fall in love?
And writes in the diary:
... attention to our friend to a friend is extraordinary. And the spiritual life is moving forward not on the teeth, not two, but at once with one turn of the lever on the whole toothed
Soon the wonderful sorceress settles in the writer's house. Sviezhen is happy, in love and love to truly - for the first time in life. He calls her his evening star. And admits: as if wings grew up:
After her, I had a pigeon in my chest, I fell asleep with him. I woke up at night: the pigeon trembles. In the morning I got up - all the pigeon.
Only one overshadowed his happiness: he was married. And perfectly understood that the explanation with his wife would be difficult. Still would! Sedna in a beard, the demon in the rib. The famous writer, father of two children throws the family for the sake of "Moroda" with the camp of the past, which is "in the asset" only a room in a communal service, where she is not even spelled out, and a sick mother in his arms ...
Cunning delibery
The exposition of the family drama turned on the verge of writing an apartment. Vazka instant: or we, native family, or this woman - Rapid, insidious predator, which is trying by all their might. The culmination of Svarvin described in his diary:
Dickens painting! Leva shouted at me in his madness that my "wife" will be placed, and with me the Order will be removed. It was so intolerable hurt and terrible that something broke out for me forever.
"Disable" father and husband - failed. Many years later, before death, Euphrosinia Pavlovna, an abandoned wife, will say:
My husband is not a simple person, the writer, it means that I should serve him. And served all his life as it could ...
New chosen - Valeria Dmitrievna, who allegedly only for the apartment, and hunted - did not grow up for a joke. Not for housing - for life and health of your beloved. And for the first time admitted to him in his feelings:
From yesterday I learned that it was anxious to live without you, I don't find my place. I think it's because I learned about the danger: we want to separate us. You, admit it, sought - that's it: Now I can only be with you or completely without you.
Since then, they have not parted for one day. Together, one and a long happily lived a half dozen years. It so happened that the day of their meeting was January 16 - became the day of death of the writer. After his departure from the life of Valery Dmitrievna became the heiress of the huge literary archive of Mikhail Mikhailovich. Thanks to her, they saw the light of many works of Privhan.
man shared articles
From the very childhood, we are taught to the fact that nature needs to love and protect and protect, try to preserve its values \u200b\u200bthat are so necessary for a person. And among the many great Russian writers who affect the subject of nature in their works, one still stands out on a general background. We are talking about Mikhail Mikhailovich Privain, who was called the "old-timber-timber" of domestic literature. Love for this writer arises in the younger grades, and many rush throughout life.
Man and Nature in the work of Mikhail Svavina
Barely you just start reading the works of Mikhail Svavina, immediately begin to understand their features. They do not have any political subtexts that his contemporaries loved so much, there are no bright statements and appeals to society. All works are distinguished by the fact that their main value is a person and the world: nature, life, animals. And these artistic values \u200b\u200bwriter tries to transfer to his reader to understand how important the unity with nature is.
One day, Svarvin said: "... I am writing about nature, he himself is only about people and I think." This phrase can be safely called the system-forming in his stories, because we see an open and thinking person in them, with a pure heart of the arguing about true values.
Despite the fact that Svarvin survived several wars and the revolution, he did not cease to praise a person for his desire to know life from all sides. Of course, love for nature is a mansion, because in his works are not only people, but also trees, animals. All of them help a person, and such assistance is mutual, which emphasizes unity.
Very precisely about Mikhail Mikhailovich, another great writer spoke at one time - Maxim Gorky. He said, neither one of the Russian writers did not meet so strong love for nature. And indeed, Privhanin not only loved nature, he tried to learn everything about her, and then convey these knowledge to his reader.
Reasoning about the purity of the human soul
Mikhail Svavin sincerely believed in people, trying to see only good and positive in them. The writer believed that over the years the man becomes wiser, he compared people with trees: "... So there are people, they moved everything in the world, and they themselves become all the best." And to whom it's not a promsion who survived the hard blows of fate, to know about it.
The writer was based on a human relationship, because a person had to always find a support in his friends and loved ones. He said: "The highest morality is a victim with his personality in favor of the team." Nevertheless, only his love for nature could be compared with the love of a person from Svanina. Many works are written in such a way that in each phrase there is a deep meaning, reasoning about the fine relationship of man and nature.
"Storeroom Sun"
Mikhail Privhanin has written many works for his life, which still admire their deep meaning. And the "pantry sun" is considered to be one of his best creations, because in this work we look at the wonderful world through the eyes of two children: brother and sisters of Mitra and Nastya. After the death of the parents on their fragile shoulders, a heavy cargo was killed, because they had to manage themselves.
Somehow the children decided to go to the forest behind the cranberry, taking the necessary things with them. So they reached the Bludov of the Marsh, about whom the legends went, and here the brother and sister had to part, because "a rather wide marsh trail was diverged by a fork." Nastya and Mitrash were one for one with nature, they had to go through many tests, the main of which was separation. Nevertheless, the brother and sister were able to meet with each other, and the dog's grass was helped by Mitra.
"Storeroom Sun" gives us the opportunity to find out how closely the person and nature are intertwined. For example, at the time of the dispute and partitioning of Mitra and Nastya, the daisy mood was transmitted and nature: even the trees who had seen a lot in their century. However, love is sent to people, his faith in them gave us a happy end of the work, because brother and sister did not only meet, they were still able to fulfill the conceived: to collect cranberries, which "acidic and very useful health grows in the swamps in the summer, and collect her late in the fall.
Russian Soviet writer Mikhail Mikhailovich Privhanin was born in the village of Khrushchevo Yeetsky County on February 4, 1873 in a merchant family. Despite the origin, the privine was not a rich man, since his father lived on a wide leg and wondered the state when Michael was a completely child. 
At six years, thanks to the efforts of the mother, Mikhail enters the Gymnasium of Yelts, but, after studying there for 4 years, was expelled for keenness in relation to the teacher (some sources claim that the Svarvin was not only the unfailed hooligan, but also a two-way).
Thanks to the petition of a native uncle - a rich shipadowellastman, Misha went to depart in the Tyumen Real School: I was "with the Wolf Ticket" on the unclean recommendation.
Then, from 1893 to 1897, the future writer becomes a student of the Riga Polytech, who also does not finish due to arrest. Svrani began to actively take part in the Marxist circle, at the next meeting of which was discovered by the police. Mikhail had a huge influence with each other by University V.D. Ulrich, who led the active propaganda of Marxism.
Svavina caught with a political one when he spread leaflets and for the Bunar thoughts he stopped for a bastard for a year, and after another two years he was waiting for a link to his native eldet.
In 1900, the young Svarvin decides to commit to politics and goes to study at the agronomist at the University of Leipzig, after which it works in 1902 in the specialty, and in the evenings he is engaged in writing. The creative path of the writer and his becoming "vagrand" begins in 1906 with moving to St. Petersburg. 
The year of the beginning of his creative activity, Mikhail Mikhailovich considers 1906th, then his first work of the "Sashok" is printed. But the name of the Navigina became famous after the publication of his "travel notes", which he publishes after the end of the journey to the Extreme North, Karelia and Zavolzh. Svarvin becomes a real travel traveler. He traveled around the whole Crimea, Kazakhstan visited Norway, was in the Far East ... the writer makes a forced break in his work only with the arrival of the First World War. Since 1918, he is a military correspondent, from 1919 - a rural teacher in Smolensk. Before moving to Moscow and settle in the House of Writers (next to the Tretyakov Gallery), many 15 years have passed. This happened only in 1937.
Starting from 1940, Privain publishes his observation diary in stories and essays. After the war, the writer rides "closer to nature," he acquires a cottage and there works not to twist hands.
The writer died on January 16, 1954. His body was betrayed by the land at the Moscow Introduction Cemetery.
Major achievements Svhai
In our country, Svavin is known as the creator of natural philosophy, as a writer who acutely observed what is happening in nature and conducted diaries called "Hunter's Notes".
- With the name of Privhane, the works that are so clearly and naturally describe nature, where Mikhail Mikhailovich himself found so many artistic natural philosophy. He was dulvied by the "singer of nature", which was able to clothe his records in the diary in real art. Among his literary heritage - essays, stories, and, most importantly, stories, those who read our parents in distant childhood. The most significant, in the opinion of literature, are: collections of essays "in the edge of nonpumens" (1907) and "for the magic kolobkom" (1908), the phenological notes "Calendar of Nature" (1935), the story "Spring Light" (1940), the story "Labor Spring" (1940), Lyrico Philosophical Book "Forest Drops" (1940) and a miniature cycle with the same name, released in 1943, Roman-fairy tale "Freight Road" (1957) and the autobiographical novel "Kashcheev Chain", released Already after the death of the writer. Svaren was also fond of writing articles on agronomy, which he only had more than a hundred in the publication.
Important dates of the biography of Privina
In 1897, Svarvina convicted for three years in prison for his political beliefs. In prison and link, the writer decides to completely change the attitude to power and no longer engage in politics. Recent years of the late 19th century can be considered a turning point in the life of a young promain.
"Since Michael was forbidden after prison and lived in large cities, he asks permission to go abroad and continue their studies. And at the beginning of 1900, he receives him, after which she moved to Germany and "learns to be useful for the Motherland by a person." In 1902, the writer returns to Russia and settles in the wedge, where it works as an assistant agronomist: now he makes advanced thoughts in agronomy and agriculture. 
- Agronomy became his specialization forever. 1904 - Privina offered work in Moscow, in the laboratory of the Petrovsk SelhoCounty under the guidance of the famous Professor D.M. Snidishnikova. In 1905, Svtainen publishes its first article "Potatoes in Garden and Field Culture". He begins to write after the first positive review of his story "Sashok", which saw the light in 1906.
- Privhanin believed that a person's personal life should have to work out. He married 25 years old on a simple peasant with Smolensk, from marriage with which he had three sons, two of whom also acquired fame in the literature. 
- Since 1906, Svhavin has been working in St. Petersburg, where he publishes his beloved: "In the edge of nonpougly birds" and "Kolobok". It was during this period that the writer begins to lead his notes that does not interrupt throughout his life. Their volume of a total of 25 volumes amounted to 25 volumes!
- In September 1917, Svtain, working in the newspaper "The Will of the People", prepares his first compilation to the exit.
In 1937, the writer moves to Moscow and publishes there the most significant works until the very beginning of the Great Patriotic War. 
- In September 1941 Goa, the Writer's family, together with him, moves into a deaf village Usolye under the city Pereslavl Zalessky and remains there until the end of the war. In 1943, Mikhail Svavina is awarded the Order of the Labor Red Banner.
- From 1946 to 1954, Mikhail Mikhailovich lives at his dacha under Zvenigorod, where the M. M. Prishvin Museum is currently operating.
Interesting facts from the life of Privhan
Having left for training in Leipzig, the young sewan fell in love with the Englishman. It was a student love that was needed to poet not for marriage, but rather, for flight. But the girl was strict manner and refused to reciprocate the future writer. From such a bitter disappointment, Navitin began writing poems, and then returned to his homeland at all. But the girl and worsted in some bank office. But the privine suffers no less, therefore agrees to the "unequal marriage", he marries the seafronts of Effrosija Pavlovna, which is looking for the features of the lost Englishwoman to old age. Efrosinia gave birth to him three sons, never climbed her husband and dedicated him thirty years of his life. After her death, he suddenly ... married again. This happened in 1950, when the writer was looking for a secretary. A certain Valery Lebedev arranged to him, which promised to the writer that no line of his manuscripts would disappear. He looked at a woman's gaze and offered her hand and heart. So the sewer married the second time.
- In 1919, Svhavina almost shot at a pure chance: he was confused with the Jew, when Cossacks Mamontov came to the city.
- In the early 1930s, there was a very fashionable passion for cars. Mikhail, without fear, got behind the wheel of a car, which acquired one of the first in Moscow. He did not give his "Moskvich" to led to anyone, Mikhail Mikhailovich's dogs were accustomed to the car, with whom he went on his four-way horse off-road into the forest for inspiration. 
Love Stories. From the diaries of Mikhail Svavina.
All his life, Svhavin led the diary, which I had imagined everything that I experienced a writer in my homeland: a revolution and war, writing in Tsar and Bolsheviks, the foreigner of the initiance of the beginning of the century and the destructive atheism of nature converters, the difficulties of their own life, loneliness, despite the long-term family bonds ...
There is such a special fear of proximity to a person, based on universal experience in the fact that everyone traveled in itself any personal sin and trying to hide him from an outstanding eye with a beautiful curtain. Meeting the unfamiliar, we also show him from the good side, and so little, a society of shelters of personal sins is created from an extraneous eye.
There are naive, believe in the reality of this convention among people; There are pretenders, cynics, satires that can enjoy how to use a tasty dish sauce. And there are very few, who, without satisfying the illusion, covering sin, are looking for ways to sinless rapprochement, believing in the soul caches, that he is such or she, who can connect sinlessly and forever and live on Earth as a forever before the sin.
In truth, the paradise story is repeated and still countlessly: almost every love begins with paradise.
* The beginning of love - in attention, then in election, then in achieving, because love is dead without a case.
* Love is like the sea, sparkling with the celestials. Happy who comes to the shore and, fascinated, will coordinate his soul with the greatness of the whole sea. Then the borders of the soul of the poor man are expanding to infinity, and the poor man understands then that there is no death ... There is no "that" shore in the sea, and there is no shores in love at all.
But the other comes to the sea is not with a soul, but with a jug and, after driving, brings from the whole sea only a jug, and the water in the jug is salted and unsuitable.
Love is a hoax, "says such a person and no longer returns to the sea.
* Who is being deceived in someone, he is deceiving. So, it is impossible to deceive, but you can not be deceived.
* Garden blooms, and everyone loads in it with aroma. So the person happens like a blooming garden: it loves everything, and everyone in his love enters.
* It was during the rain: two drops were rolled towards each other on a telegraph wire. They would meet and one big drop fell to the ground, but some bird, fluttering, hurt the wire, and dropped the land to the land to meet with each other.
That's all about the drops, and their fate disappears for us in crude land. But we, people, know that the disturbed movement of two towards each other and there, in this dark earth, continues.
And so many exciting books are written about the possibility of meeting two seeking one to another creatures, which is pretty running on the wire of two rain droplets to make a new opportunity of meetings in the fate of human.
* A woman knows that love is worth his life, and because it is afraid and runs. Do not catch up with her - so you will not take it: the new woman knows the price for itself. If you need to take it, then prove that you should give your life for you.
* If a woman interfers in creativity, then with her it is necessary, as Stepan Razin, and if you yourself do not want, like Stepan, then you will find your Taras Bulba, and let him shoot you.
But if a woman helps to create life, keeps the house, give birth to children or participates in creativity with her husband, then it must be read as the queen. The harsh struggle is given to us. And because it may be, I hate weak men.
* Imaginary end of the novel. They were so obliged to each other, so we were delighted with their meeting, that they tried to give all the wealth stored in the soul, as it were in some competition: you gave, and I'm more, and again the same on the other side, and as long as Neither of any other of their reserves remains nothing. In such cases, people who have given all their own, consider this other with their own property and these each other will suffer the rest of his life. But these two, beautiful and free people, having learned everything that everyone gave each other, and they have nothing to change anymore, and they have nowhere to grow higher in this exchange, they hugged them, firmly, and without tears, and without words were separated. Be blessed, beautiful people!
So, love, like creativity, there is an incarnation by each of the ideal images loving in another. Loving under the influence of another, as it may find himself, and both of these found, new creatures are connected in a single person: there is a restoration of separated Adam.
* That person who you love in me, of course, is better than me: I'm not like that. But you love, and I will try to be better ...
* When people live in love, they do not notice the occurrence of old age, and even if they even notice the wrinkle, they do not give her meanings: this is not the case. So, if people loved each other, then they would not do at all with cosmetics.
* Love - as an understanding or as a way to unobitesty. Here in love all the shades of understanding, ranging from physical touch, similar to how the earth understands in the spring on the spilling water and the floodplain remains. When water goes out - there remains or the land, ugly first, and how fast the earth-understandable earth, this floem, starts to decorate, grow and blossom!
So we see every year in nature, as in the mirror, our own human path of understanding, ondomity and revival.
* Understand the essence of the marriage itself, as the path of love unity, in which the third is born, still let it be a child's child or high-quality thought (image).
And this is the general law of life, otherwise, why, by general recognition, it is in babies that the best image of a person is visible!
That is precisely in this way the direction of our human culture should be determined.
What are fish with their caviar, osinka with their down! And a person, the further being improved in the creature of human, the harder it is to multiply and, finally, he is born in his ideal.
When it still knew Rafael, - when! - And I'm just now ... and it is possible to find out only in the rare, the most difficult experience of love for men.
* In the depths of his own, it seems to me that she knows everything and it contains an answer to every question of deep consciousness. If I could ask everything - she would answer everything. But I rarely have enough strength to ask her. Life is often so-so, as if you are going on a cart, having the opportunity to fly on the plane. But only this is a great wealth, to consult that everything is from ourselves and if I just want, I will relocate from the cart on the plane or ask all the question and get any answer from it.
Lyalya remains an inexhaustible source of thought, the highest synthesis of what is called nature.
* Athanasius Ivanovich and Pulcheria Ivanovna were childless. Children born in the light of the same love: In one case, love for children is the part of common love, in the other - love for children excludes all other love: the most evil, the predatory creature can have love for children.
So, every love is a connection, but not every connection is love. True love is moral creativity.
* Art is essential by your male business, or rather, one of the hiking of a purely male action, like a song in bird males. And the case of a woman is straight love.
* How many thousands of times in the morning and to the night you need to tweet your call signs to the female, so that the life response awakens. Sparrow begins with the first warm beam, and the female will answer, well, if in a month, with the first swollen pregnant kidney.
For some reason, for some reason, it seems to us if it is birds that they fly a lot, if it is a lavies or tigers, then running continuously, jump. In fact, the birds are more sitting than fly, the tigers are very lazy, Lani graze and just move lips. So and people too. We think that the lives of people are filled with love, and when I ask yourself and others - who loved how much, and it turns out - so little! That's how we are lazy too!
* Do you know that love when you yourself do not have anything from her, and you still love it all around yourself, and walk around the field and meadow, and pick up colorfully, one to one blue cornflowers smelling with honey, And blue forget-me-not.
* ... I argue that there are great love on Earth in people, one and infinite. And in this world of love intended to feed the soul to the same way as air for blood, I find the only one that corresponds to my own unity, and only through this compliance, the unity with the same side I enter the sea of \u200b\u200buniversal love Human.
* That's why even the most primitive people, starting their short love, certainly feel that they are not alone, and everyone is well on earth to live, and even it is even clear that good life does not come out, then it is still possible to be a good one. So, only through love you can find yourself as a person myself, and only a person can enter the world of human love: love - virtue.
Otherwise: only by personal love can be joined by all-life love.
* Each incombusable young man, every undeclared and impedited need for a man contains his fairy tale about his beloved woman, about the possibility of impossible happiness.
And when, it happens, the woman is, then the question arises:
Is it not she came, the one I was waiting for?
Then follow the answers a series:
As if she!
No, not she!
And it happens, very rarely, a person who does not believe himself, says:
Is it really?
And every day, taking off the day in actions and relaxed communication, exclaims: "Yes, it is her!"
And at night, touching, it takes enthusiastically miraculous current of life and assures the miracle phenomenon: the fairy tale has become reality - it is she undoubtedly her!
* Oh, as the French "Look for a Woman"! Meanwhile, this is the truth. All the muses are rejected, but the sacred fire continues to burn and in our time, as he burned from the time immemorial times the history of man on Earth. That's my writer, everything from beginning to end there is a timid, very shameful song of some creature singing in the spring chore nature The only word:
"Come!"
* Love is an unknown country, and we all float there each on your ship, and each of us on your ship Captain and leads the ship to its own way.
* We, inexperienced and learned by novels it seems that women should strive for lies, etc. Meanwhile, they are sincerely to such an extent that we cannot imagine without experience, only this sincerity, sincerity itself, is not like our concept about her, we mix it with the truth.
* How to call that joyful feeling when it seems as if the river changes, swimming in the ocean, is freedom? love? I want to hug the whole world, and if not everyone is good, then your eyes are found only with those who are good, and therefore it seems that everyone is good. Rarely, who had no such joy in life, but rarely who coped with this wealth: one droinched him, the other did not believe it, and most often quickly grabbed from this great wealth, he felt his pockets and then sat down his treasures for his whole life, became their owner or slave.
* At night, I thought that love on Earth, the same ordinary and to a woman, it was to a woman, - that's all, and here God, and every other love in our borders: love-pity and love-understanding - from here.
* I think with love about missing Lyale. I now get clear how never was that Lyalya was the best that I met in my life, and any meditation about some kind of personal "freedom" should be discarded as absurdity, because there is no freedom than that that is given Love. And if I always be at my height, she will never spit me away. In love it is necessary to fight for your height and sim win. In love you need to grow and grow.
* I said: - I love you more and more.
And she: - After all, I told you from the very beginning that you would love more and more.
She knew it, but I did not know. I brought up the idea that love passes, which is always impossible to love, and what for a time is not difficult. This is the division of love and our overall misunderstanding: one love (some) passing, and the other eternal. In one person, children need to continue through them; Another, intensifying, connects with eternity.
* I, creating a distant unknown reader, did not pay attention to my neighbor and did not want to be a donkey for him. I was a horse for distant and did not want to be a downtal for the near.
But Lyalya came, I loved her and agreed to be "donkey" for her. The case is the same, the case consists of a person not only in the transfer of gravity, like a simple donkey, and in that particular attention to the neighbor, discharge in it with the obligation to overcome them.
In this overcoming the shortcomings of the neighbor and there is all the morality of mankind, all his "donkey" is.
* Maternity as a force, creating a bridge from the present to the future, remained the only driving force of life ...
New time is characteristic of Maternity: it is a victory of a woman.
Today we came to Bor, I put my head on my knees and fell asleep. And when I woke up, she sat in the same pose when I fell asleep, I looked at me, and I found out in these eyes not my wife, and my mother ...
* Today it was suddenly very clear this creature - more of my coverage, and most, and best, I have known, this is a creature.
You say that love, but I see only patience and pity.
So this is love: patience and pity.
God is with you! But where is the joy and happiness, are they convicted to stay overboard love?
Joy and happiness are children of love, but love itself, like power, is patience and pity. And if you are now happy and happy about life, then thank you for this mother: she regretted you and endured a lot so that you grew up and became happy.
The woman in nature is his foul, and every unfortunate finds a consolation in it. Everything comes down to motherhood, they drink from this source, and then be bought: each you can take! How many of this deception tears shed!
* A beautiful woman undressed in the lobby, and at that time her boy was crying. The woman leaned toward him, took his hands and kissed him, but as kisses! Not only did not smile, did not look around for people, and everything, as in music, is completely, serious and elevated, went into these kisses. And I knew her soul closely.
Die to die - it means to surrender to the end, as the woman is given to the business and through it becomes a mother ... And the death of the mother is not death, but awning.
* I like living water from a deep well of her soul, and I find it in my face, I open some correspondence to this depth.
From this, her face in my eyes is also changing forever, always worried, as a star reflected in deep water.
* It was close to love in youth - two weeks of kisses - and forever ... so never love in life I was not, and my whole love went into poetry, all the poetry walked me and closed in solitude. I am almost a child, almost chaste. And he himself did not know that, satisfying the discharge of the deadly longing or hesily joy. And it would have passed, maybe a little time, and I would have died, not moving at all, which drives all the worlds.
* If you think about her, looking right in the face, and not somehow from the side, or "about", then poetry to me straightforwards. Then it seems like love and poetry - two names of the same source. But this is not entirely true: poetry can not replace all love and only follows from it, like from the lake.
* We have not been so happy as now, we are even at the limit of possible happiness, when the essence of life is joy - goes into infinity (merges with eternity) and death is afraid of little. As you can be happy, while ... it is impossible! And the miracle came out - and we are happy. So this is possible under all conditions.
* I will look at you, smile and everything will be lit so brightly that there is nowhere to go, and all the shuffle crawls behind the back, and you face the facial to face, mighty, clear.
* In love you can reach everything, everything will say good, just not a habit ...
* At that distant time, I did not dream of writing, but when I fell in love with madly, then in the midst of the feeling somewhere in the car on a piece of paper I tried to record consistent stages of my love: wrote and cried, for which, for whom, why did I write? Oh my God! And five years ago, when the novel with Lyalya began, is it not the same, coming to the soul to the secrets of life, did I drive the same papers?
She wrote to me letters without thinking about whether they were written or bad. I tried to turn my feeling about her in poetry from all my strength. But if our letters were judged, it turns out that my letters are beautiful, and her letters on the scales pull more and that I think about poetry, never write such a letter as she is nothing about poetry thinking.
So, it turns out, there is an area in which, with all talent in poetry, do nothing. And there is something "something", meaning more than poetry. And not what I am, but also Pushkin, and Dante, and the greatest poet cannot enter into a dispute with this "something."
All my life, I was vaguely afraid of this "something" and many times gave myself an oath not to be seduced by "something" with great poetry, as Gogol seduced. I thought my humility will help from this temptation, the consciousness of the modesty of its place, my favorite prayer:
"May your will be (and I am a humble artist)." And so, in spite of everything, I approached the fatal line between poetry and faith.
I wrote intimate pages about the woman, they lacked something in them ... She almost straightened, just touched, and the same pages became wonderful. This is what I lacked all my life so that my poetry touched a woman.
* The woman handed her hand to the harp, touched her finger, and the sound was born from touching her finger to the string. So it was: She touched - and I got.
* The most amazing and special was in the utmost absence of a teasing image of a woman who is impressive at the first meeting. I was impressed by her soul - and her understanding of my soul. There was a contrickance of the soul, and only very slowly, very gradually turning into the body, and without the slightest rupture on the soul and flesh, without the slightest shame and reproach. It was an embodiment.
I almost can remember how her beautiful eyes were created at my Psychai, a smile, the first life-giving tears of pressing, and a kiss, and fiery contact, in which our different flesh was melted in unity.
It seemed to me if the ancient God, who had punished a man, returned his favor his favor and passed into my hands the continuation of the ancient creativity of the world, interrupted by disobedience.
In it, everything was found for me, and through her everything came together.
* Love hygiene is not to look at a friend Never from the side and never judge him with someone else.
* Mikhail, be happy that your valley stood for some kind of leaves and the whole crowd passed by him. And only under the very end, only one woman behind that leaf opened you, and did not break, and he left himself.
* How much is meant to a width - so much happiness, as in the depth - so much misfortune. So, happiness or misfortune is the envy of our one person in front of others. And there is nothing: happiness and misfortune is only two measures of fate: happiness - in width, misfortune - in depth.
* A young couple is coming: it seemed that it had long been a long time ago, but it was going, and it was clear that it was eternal: an eternal crazy attempt to make the whole world to make your personal happiness.
* And now I have introduced my night that the charm of my ended, I no longer love. Then I saw that there is nothing more about me and my whole soul, like a deep autumn ruined Earth: Catted cattle, empty fields, where black, where the snowball, and the snowball traces of cats.
I thought about the love that she, of course, alone, and if disintegrates on sensual and platonic, then how a person's life on spiritual and physical disintegrates: and this is essentially death.
When a person loves, he penetrates the essence of the world.
* I remembered my old thought, somewhere happily printed in Soviet times. I said then: "Which of us thinks more about eternity, the more durable things come out of the hands."
And now, probably, approaching the old age, I begin to think that not from eternity, and everything from love: each of us can be high, but it is possible to hold on a long time on an altitude only a strong emission of love.
* Love, like a great water: comes to her that thirsty, it will stop or take a bucket and takes into my measure. And the water runs next.
* Step is not heard, the heart is not knocking, the eye is comforted by blue shine of the sky through the trunks of frozen trees, the grateful heart learned the beloved in the first lemon of the butterfly, in the first yellow-raumous flower, in an overlap of the stream and the golden euri of alder and in a splashing song Finch on the willow .
I hear the whisper of a sweetheart, a tender touch and such confidence in the truth of this being, that if death was approaching now, I would seem to me, I found the power to bring the beloved in myself, hugging her, painlessly reset the body unnecessary to me.
* Here it is as if it happened, and in me, in my immense joy of full possession there was even a place for a little sadness about the eternal deception, in which death is located: she wants to get a wonderful human soul, and instead, as the evil mockery, she It gets ugly modified, worthy of only worms of the remains of what was on earth.
The basis of love is an unspecable place of complete confidence and fearlessness. If the encroachment happen in this side, then I have a means of dealing against yourself: I give all myself at the full order of a friend and I find out through it, what I am right to blame. If I see that my friend I missed my shrine, I will check it as myself. And if the worst and last thing happens: my friend will become indifferent to what I am grieving, then I'll take my own traffic stick and go out of the house, and my shrine will still have untouched.
* The most amazing out of our relationship went out that my disbelief was brought up in the reality of love, poetry of life and everything that is considered invalid, but only inherent people as an age experience turned out to be false. In fact, there is much more reality than the usual overall reliability.
This is a confidence in the existence of that, for the expression, it was impossible to manage to be worn out the conditional concepts that turn into the emptiness and the usual words that were pronounced by all the words about the truth, God, and especially what was given to us in the word "mysticism".
Without words, without mysticism, but in reality: there is something on earth precious, because of what it is worth living, work and be fun and joyful.
* - My friend! In you, my only salvation, when I am in misfortune ... But when I am happy in your affairs, then, rejoicing, I bring my joy and love to you, and you answer - what love is more expensive to you: when I'm in misfortune or when I am healthy , rich and famous, and come to you as a winner?
Of course, she replied, - above the love when you are a winner. And if you are in misfortune enough for me, to escape, so you love for yourself! So be happy and come to me the winner: it's better. But I myself love you equally - and in the mountain and in joy.
* Love is knowledge ... There is in man and around the world a party that can be found only through the strength of love.
* Last truth that the world exists as beautiful as they saw his children and in love. Everything else makes diseases and poverty.
* Each family is surrounded by his secret, which is incomprehensible not only to others, but perhaps even more incomprehensible to the family members themselves. This happens because the marriage is not the "grave of love", as they think, and personal, it means, the sacred war. Married, this person with his will meet another, limiting his will, and thus is "mystery" of two in the struggle with an unknown end.
In this struggle, there are lies in this struggle, in which life is crumbling, and outsiders can read the mystery of the family. Such a collapse was in the family of L. Tolstoy.
* What is love? Nobody said about it. But it is true that you can only say about love that it contains the desire for immortality and eternity, and at the same time, of course, as something small and the most understandable and necessary, the ability of the creature, covered by love, leave behind more or less durable things , ranging from young children and ending with Shakespeare rows.
* Persons only love, ranging from the first love for a woman, ending with love for peace and man, - Everything else a man urges, leads him to death, that is, to power over another person, understood as violence.
Every weakness of a man in relation to a woman should be justified by the force of action (courage): And this is the whole dialectic man and women.
* In deception, relying on the power of their collected cheerfulness, there are almost all men, directed towards a woman. And in almost every woman there is a terrible deception that returns self-inflated to his insignificance.
Close closely, I approached happiness, and now it seems, just to take it, but here it's just instead of happiness, the knife is at the very place where happiness lives. Some time passed, and I got used to this sick place: I didn't get it, and so otherwise I began to understand everything in the world - not in width, as before, and in the depth. And all the light has changed for me, and people began to appear completely different.
Love hunger or poisonous food of love? I got a love hunger.
* Beauty avoids those who chase after her: a person loves his something, worries, and because of love, it happens, beauty will appear. It grows in a gift, like rye or like happiness. We can't make beauty, but to sow and easily Earth for this we can ...
* Today, my thought was about the fear of death, that the fear of this is going, unless it turns out that you have to die with my friend together. From here I conclude that death is the name of an overpressive love of loneliness and that the person is not born with loneliness, and gradually, old, in the struggle, is causing him as a disease. So the feeling of loneliness and the accompanying fear of death is also a disease (egoism), healing only with love.
* Today, while the walk looked around and suddenly found a group of non-fit young in the green crust of high trees in communication with heaven. Immediately I remembered the trees in the Boulogo Forest 47 years ago. Then I thought about the exit from the situation created by my novel, and too, I looked at the trees spread over the burning sky, and suddenly all the movement of the worlds, all sorts of theirs, the stars became clear to me, and from there I crossed my tangled relationship with the girl, and The decision came out before the logically correct that he had to immediately open it. I rushed to getting out of the forest, found a post office, bought a blue piece of paper, asked the beloved immediately to come on a date, because everything was decided.
Probably, she could not understand me: nothing came out of date, and I am a system of my evidence borrowed from the stars, completely forgot.
Was it madly it? No, it was not madness, but it became, of course, madness, when he did not meet that it should have come true.
Absolutely the same happened to me ten years ago. The woman came to me, I began to reveal one my thought. She did not understand me, counting for abnormal. Then a different woman came soon, I told her the same thing, and she immediately understood me, and soon we were entered into binding.
So, probably, it would be in that explanation 47 years ago: I would understand - and that's it! And after that, almost half a century, I thought about myself as a madman, trying to write so that I was understood everything until I finally achieved my: a friend came, I understood me, and I became the same good, simple and clever person like Most people on earth.
It is interesting here that the action of the floor was closed by the mental state: it was necessary, to ensure that the possibility of action here (in the flesh, in ordinary experiences) was opened.
* ... Soon the train brings me to Zagorsk. Here so strong spring light that the tears in the eyes flow and he shines the little soul, and penetrates the soul, somewhere, maybe in paradise, and further for the paradise, in such a depth, where only the saints live ... Saints ... And here for the first time I think that the saints come from light and that maybe at the beginning, there is somewhere, for the paradise, only the light, and all the best comes from the light, and if I know it, no one My love does not take me away and my love for everyone will be light ...
* No traces of what people call love was not in the life of this old artist. All the love of him, everything that people live for themselves, he was given to art. Welded by his visions, hurt by a veil of poetry, he was preserved by a child, satisfying the explosions of the deadly longing and intoxication with the joy of nature. It would have passed, maybe a little time, and he died, confident that this is all life on earth ...
But once a woman came to him, and he, and not the dream of his own, sled his "love".
So everyone says, Facelia, waiting for the artist of a special and extraordinary expression of the feeling, asked:
And what does this mean, "love"?
It means, "he said, - that if I have the last piece of bread, I will not have it and give you if you are sick, I will not go away from you if you need to work for you, I'm herself like donkey. ..
And he still wrote a lot to her such that people endure due to love.
Facelium was in vain waiting for an unprecedented.
To give the last piece of bread, go for the patient, working as a donkey, - she repeated, - but everyone has it, so everything is done ...
And I want it, "the artist replied," so that I have now, like everyone else. " I am exactly what I say that I finally experience great happiness to not consider yourself a person special, lonely and be like all good people.
* Mute is standing with a cigarette, but still pray at this sung hour, like someone I do not know, I will answer the window and hear: in an impregnable brushing, you still mumble aunt, the crane clies the sun, and even here, on the lake, in front of the eyes, Som moved and let the wave like a ship.
Some are standing and only after writing:
"On the day the coming, envelope, Lord, our past and save everything that was before good, our protected forests, the origins of the powerful rivers, the birds are sorry, the fish will multiply in a lot, to return all animals in the forest and free our soul from them" .
* Later autumn sometimes happens just as early in the spring: there is white snow, there is a black earth. Only in spring from Protalin smells of the ground, and in the fall of snow. So it certainly happens: we get used to the snow in winter, and the earth smells in the spring, and in the summer I'm sniffed to the ground, and in the late autumn it smells of snow.
It rarely happens, the sun will swing for some hour, but what kind of joy is it! Then great pleasure gives us any dozen already frozen, but those who survived the leaf storms on IWA or a very small blue flower under the foot.
I bow to the blue flower and I'm surprised to find out Ivan: This one Ivan remained from the previous double flower, to all of the famous Ivan da Marya.
In truth, Ivan is not a real flower. It is complicated from very small curly leaves, and only the color is purple, for it and is called a flower. A real flower with pestles and stamens is only yellow Marya. It from Mary fell on the autumn earth seeds so that in the new year again cover the land by Ivan and Maryami. Mary's business is much more difficult, so, right, because she opal before Ivan.
But I like that Ivan suffered frost and even cranked. Wrinking through the blue late autumn flower, I say slowly:
Ivan, Ivan, where is your Mary now?
According to the book "Almost every love begins with paradise." © L.A. Razzanova. Drawing up. Preface. 1998.
What is love? What is its role in a person's life? Such questions raise the author of the text M. M. Privine.
The writer reveals this problem on the example of a story about a man who tried to find the answer to the question: ".. What is love?" The hero, which was happy to see a sheet of nuts, running cold water in a river, which just enjoyed nature, came to the conclusion that everyone has his own, this is a "unknown country", and everyone swims there on his ship, choosing his own way ... He tried Bring to the reader that a person must find the "true love" itself, keep it and save.
On this author's arguments do not end. He shows that love is necessary for everyone that everyone seeks to her, trying to find "his", big, hugging the whole world, or a simple, family. A man who has acquired love acquires and a sense of joy, peace, serenity ...
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M. M. Privhanin believes that only one thing can be said about love that "it contains the desire for immortality and eternity" that this is something "incomprehensible and necessary", which is able to "leave behind more or less durable things" .
It is impossible to disagree with the opinion of the author. Indeed, love is a complex phenomenon, to give a definition of which is almost impossible. This feeling can revive a person, inspire or hurt, even kill ... Therefore, it should be carefully treated for such a fragile feeling like love.
Many writers in their works affected the problem raised by the author. So, for example, in the story of A. I. Kurin "Pomegranate Bracelet" tells about the poor official of Zhetkov, who is hopelessly in love with the princess and is even capable of self-sacrifice for the calmness of his chosen. He writes endless letters of faith, gives his family relic - a pomegranate bracelet. But the hero's feelings are not mutual. He commits suicide when they forbid this woman to love. In a farewell letter, very similar to prayer, yolks talk about inseparable love as the greatest human happiness.
No less bright literary argument is Roman M. A. Bulgakov "Master and Margarita". For the sake of his beloved man, Margarita is capable of any crime or sacrifice. She sells his soul, agreeing to be the queen on the Ball of Satan to save the Master. Despite all sins, the heroine was made forgiveness for the fact that "loved and suffered." She gained eternal peace with her beloved man.
Thus, the problem raised by M. M. Privilene is relevant at all times. Love is the necessary component in life. Combined her, a person acquires the meaning of life. These arguments from the literature only confirm.
Updated: 2017-07-03
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