Castles of anger Review Essay Example

Castles of anger Review Paper Essay on Castles of anger This is the fate she could weave the thread of our lives quietly, but instead she ignites on its way, here and there, some moments, choosing from thousands of other moments of our lives. At night, when you reminisce, they burn bright light, marking milestones course of your destiny. These lonely lights burn so bright that sometimes illuminate at least some reasons for what happened in your life.  »  « Why is life always makes fun of us? She catches up with us even at a tender age and sows in our childrens mind a certain image, or smell, or sound, and leaves it in our memory. And this moment was happiness. Do you understand it then, when its too late. Youre already far: thousands of kilometers away that image, sound, smell. And there is no return to them  »  « Our desire -. Thats the most important thing that we have in life, and can not always give them up. It turns out that sometimes costs not sleep all night because of our burning desires. We do abominations, but never pay for them. And this is precisely the most important thing when it comes time to pay, we must meet it with dignity, not trying to avoid retribution. Only it is important  ». We will write a custom essay sample on Castles of anger Review specifically for you for only $16.38 $13.9/page Order now We will write a custom essay sample on Castles of anger Review specifically for you FOR ONLY $16.38 $13.9/page Hire Writer We will write a custom essay sample on Castles of anger Review specifically for you FOR ONLY $16.38 $13.9/page Hire Writer  « As silly as it may seem, but people sometimes covers countries, even panic, and life after that is wrinkled like a ticket, in a fit of fear gripped in his fist. Partly by accident and partly by the will of fate, in the folds of the coiled tangle of life disappear sad, mean, or never understood periods of time. . Thats the way  »  « Ten kilometers away in the bell tower in Kvinnipake struck midnight; blowing north wind, and he reported that the sound of bells from the city directly into the room where they lay. When the phone rings this bell, it seems as if bells cut the night apart, and the time its sharp blade, cut through a portion of eternity of surgery hours and every minute of it causes injury to himself saved, and these blows bells cling over time, the way it is, because time counts the life force, consisting in the fact that a matter of minutes by minute, thats what it means to escape the way it is, the truth, and the transcendental legalization of any clockwork, and painful sweetness all the bells tangible svjaza s with time, in order just to establish some order in constant electrifying crash before and after each stroke associated wild fear, hysterical pedantry and superhuman strength. And like any of panic, it has its own ritual, and ritual that consists in the constant transformation of m illions of hysterical explosion of fear in a divine dance on stage, in which a person is able to move like a god is a ritual, I repeat, and that this was ritual clock tower Grand Junction.  »  « his heart discouraged some special rhythm like crazy hours, chained in this monstrous building, which was Kvinnipag with its bell tower  ». time kills to escape. While the sharp blade, pierce the flesh of life, cutting an artery fate to put the blood, without which it would immediately blunted blade. Whether to time applicable to both existing temporary category as a heartless system of reference? time is a predator or time-warrior? Whether it has a mind? And do it there the blade higher justice whose sharpness is almost impossible to understand in the course of human existence Books Path from Dandellion Wine by Ray Bradbury to the uniqueness of Alessandro Baricco, return to Ray, but now to his evil spirits was army , followed once again the voice of the author. Finally, his memories of Emily Brontes Wuthering Heights. And all this to show through here and there tones of Debussy, Piano placers, merged with the voices of summer meadows in the morning, and in the other lines with a thunderous roar and the darkness of night, cool ringing shower, and a whispering silence As if Baricco twists slightly salty and slightly sweet white thread, which can take any color, then dissolves them in the waters of the sea and the water turns into glass transparent, perfectly smooth, with a subtle shade of blue. To break not to break it, but the world through him you will see in the new breaking On this glass moving crazy -. Without looking back and looking into the eyes of death at sunset amber sun What holds them. within the limits of life? Surely those parallels that pulls Baricco between them, infinitely far?  « she was crying. They know how few some only the eyes, just as a vessel to the brim filled with sadness, standing impassively as long as one is just a drop not to overfill it and do not spill over the edge, and it is followed by thousands of others, and he was standing impassive and on the edges of his drip tears of resentment  » and at the other end of the story:. Life it is filled with glass, which should be drunk to the dregs  » to the bottom, not allowing tears. resentment, which are dyed blue and inky wine once overwhelmed the glass, and then there is no stopping the track, the current down the passionless . The smoothness of glass  « I told him that all the most beautiful thing in life a mystery so it was with me there are things to see: these are things ordinary or horrible, but there are still some mysteries, and it is in them that the happiness is I was so at least  » Baricco creates glass, but the letters show through his books on paper as on a milk sea, dense and calm. And if you hold them with your fingertips, you will feel them hematite reliefs, extending slightly upward, like the fingers of your extraordinary, subtle and discreet magnets, and letters huddled together in flocks of words, so gullible gyre -. Style Baricco. Thats right, the only right word, but I moved them a lot.  «You come here not to sing some single note. You come to sing your own note. It is not a trifle, its very important. Have your note, its own note. Love her, choosing from thousands of others, to carry it with you, in your heart. You may not believe me, but I tell you that when you breathe, it breathes with you when you sleep, it waits for you to wake up, it should be your shadow, and I swear, it will be with you until the death and will die with you life is, of course, makes a hell of a noise, but strained his ears to hear it, and when you hear, grab it and hold fast to it no longer will not go away. Carry it with you humming it to myself when youre working, even if it sounds in your head, in my heart, let it be at your fingertips. And, perhaps, even in the legs  » And then the time may be, shall overtake you not so soon. And youre not from slips on a smooth glass, from which built your castles anger, love, passion, lust, despair and boundless insanity. Someone will survive. Someone one. And most likely, one fingering a rosary of time, with a special effort to make everything else not to confuse more than it is now.