Book: The cherry orchard. Page 1

About nature, beautiful, you Shine with eternal radiance, beautiful and indifferent, you whom we call mother, combine in yourself a existence and death, you live and destroy...

- To me that noise light that my friends and enemies... How nice to play the mandolin!
Is a guitar, not a mandolin.
For the madman who is in love with, it's a mandolin...

We in Russia are still very few. Vast number of the intelligentsia, which I know wasn't looking for anything, not doing anything and to work is not capable of. Call themselves intellectuals, and learning badly, seriously read nothing, absolutely nothing to do, the science just say, in art you know little.

When I work long hours, without getting tired, then thoughts of chill, and it feels like I too know what I exist. And how, brother, in Russia people who are there for some unknown reason.

Your father was a man, my pharmacist, and this does not mean absolutely nothing.

I'm such a delicate girl, love tender words.

Good and sensitive, but it is unclear.

Here it is happiness, here it comes, coming nearer and nearer, I can already hear his footsteps. And if we do not see, do not know him, what's the problem? It will see more!

It is so clear to begin to live in the present we must first redeem our past, finish with it, but redeem it only by suffering, only by extraordinary, continuous labor.

To get around the petty and illusory, what is stopping to be free and happy - that's the purpose and meaning of our lives.

I think so: if the girl whom he loves, it, then, immoral.

Of course, every girl must remember, and I don't like, if the girl bad behavior.

We are lagging behind, at least two hundred years, we have exactly nothing, no particular relationship to the past, we only philosophize, complain of sadness or drink vodka.

It's true. I must say, life is stupid.