Moscow is a city that has much suffering ahead of it. - Anton Chekhov

The person who wants nothing, hopes for nothing, and fears nothing can never be an artist.

As I shall lie in the grave alone, so in fact I live alone.

April was just beginning, and after the warm spring day it turned cooler, slightly frosty, and a breath of spring could be felt in the soft, cold air. The road from the convent to town was sandy, they had to go at a walking pace; and on both sides of the carriage, in the bright, still moonlight, pilgrims trudged over the sand. And everyone was silent, deep in thought, everything around was welcoming, young, so near — the trees, the sky, even the moon — and one wanted to think it would always be so.