Drawings of my thoughts

Hope is the most dangerous state of all that exists in the universe. Remember where the expression came from: "there's always a shred of hope"? This is from the myth of the Pandora's box, where all the troubles came from, and only one hope remained at the bottom. And I'm wondering: Why Hope is in this box WITH ALL WEAKNESSES AND SORROW? And why was she there last? Maybe it's because she was put there first and even to the bottom, because the most dangerous creature in the world?

She built castles out of snow.
Carefully fashioned white turrets and gates, almost without feeling cold. she built her locks of snow and ice, but they were just as fragile as the sand castles. And it was worth warming the sun, all her work was melting, spreading dirty puddles and melting snow. But she time and again rebuilt these locks, molded from the snow and ice all the same carved turrets, not noticing the cold in the fingers.
"Why are you doing it?" people asked her. Why not build one single solid and reliable lock made of stone or steel?
And she just smiled.
"I do not want such a castle," she simply answered, "You can not get a dream, you need to achieve it, and then build a new one, time after time." Why should I have a single strong castle if I have a solid foundation on which I can build hundreds others?
And only then everyone noticed that she built locks on the most solid granite in the world. And it was the granite of her belief that she is doing the right thing.

Love is like a fragile butterfly: it can not be caught and tamed, it can not be appropriated, because the wings will recess, the pollen from them will fall off, and then the butterfly will not be able to fly. It can only be kept gently in the palm of your hand, but only while she wants it. You can not keep it by force, because in this way it can be killed. Therefore, people who want to enjoy love forever for themselves, not giving freedom to those they love, are like stupid collectors who collect butterflies and pin them on pins. Yes, such collections look just as beautiful, you can keep these butterflies in your hands as long as you want, but they do not have LIFE!

And now about me:
When you get used to working at night, and in the morning you leave the office and go home to sleep - you are already beginning to appreciate the arrivals home at the normal time. And it turns out that you have a lot of free time. But that's not the point. I read at night what I have long wanted to read - Shakespeare, the biography of Curie, Dickens, Jack London, and I also wonder if I mean anything to anyone? And I do not find the answer.
I think. And these thoughts are like injections of spruce branches.
Recently, I remembered what happened after I was admitted to the "Spacecraft". Also has understood: - after that there with me did, to me already a little that is terrible.
Someday I'll talk about it. And here the work is very little and well paid. You sit, look after the servers and read books to their measured noise.
Now is the time to drink tea.