Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=496604" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Two Old Friends</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">when we were children<br>we were already friends <br>in the middle of our own poverties, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">we struggled to rise from the lowest<br>echelon. Years passed. And now</div><div style="margin:10px 0">we see each other again.<br>His fingers are filled with diamond<br>rings, as big as a fist of a child.<br>His coat is expensive.<br>Everything in him is expensive now</div><div style="margin:10px 0">His car. A picture of his beautiful wife.<br>A corporate lawyer too in the <br>city. He will be taking the bill <br>tonight in this expensive restaurant.<br>The finest wine. The exotice cuisine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">As usual, I will do the talking, <br>as always, since then, he had <br>always been on the side of silence.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ask him to tell a joke, he says <br>he has none. Ask him to tell a <br>story about himself, he says<br>there is nothing nice about <br>his past. Ask him about his<br>present, he says there is nothing<br>worth talking about himself.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He has all the secrets hidden<br>inside his silent gazes. He smiles<br>to every story that i tell. He <br>likes my company. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Inside my mind, i could have<br>asked him: how many persons<br>have been killed in your name? <br>How many assets are taken<br>mercilessly from the hands of <br>your economic foes? What <br>brain is this that keeps on <br>acquiring and scheming and <br>killing who obstructs his way? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">He is my friend, as always and <br>i do not have the right to ask.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The night is over. It is time to<br>go home. We are on separate cars<br>now and he tells me, 'take care! '</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sometimes, i ask myself if i understand<br>what life is all about really. I am home, <br>And i decided not to preach, <br>even to myself. I honk the car, <br>and the gate opens.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> It is 3 o'clock<br>in the morning.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ric+S.+Bastasa">Ric S. Bastasa</a><div class=q>
<img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share">
<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=496604" data-title="Two Old Friends de Ric S. Bastasa" data-description="when we were children
we were already friends 
in the middle of our own poverties, 

we struggled to rise from the lowest
echelon. Years passed. And now

we see each other again.
His fingers are filled with diamond
rings, as big as a fist of a chi..."></div>
</div>
</div>