Fyodor Dostoevsky. Teen (№ 206514)

Now atlesat Russia, draining it with soil, turn in the steppe and prepare her for the Kalmyks. People come with hope and plant a tree - all will laugh: "Perhaps you will live up to it?" On the other hand, I wish talking about what will happen in a thousand years. Fastening the idea completely disappeared. All exactly at the Inn and tomorrow going out of Russia; all live if only they got.