Character: Krutitsy

Oh gods! Do not ask from you the words of art;
But give me now the language of the soul and feelings!

Oh gods! Do not ask from you the words of art;
But give me now the language of the soul and feelings!

No poetry, no noble feelings. I think it's because in the theatre of tragedies do not give. We used all the tragedies he knew, and now humbly! They are on the book to read do not know how.

The handwriting is now possible to know the nature! Exactly - so careful... round without strokes, so not a freethinker.

At present writing style or Lomonosov Sumarokov, because, perhaps, laughed at.

We are to blame: we can't speak, can't Express their opinions. We are silent, Yes, complain.

Our century, a century, mostly frivolous. All young, inexperienced, give it try, another try, undone, the other will change. To change easily. I will take and put all the furniture upside down and reverse. But where, I ask you, ancient wisdom, centuries of experience, which has put the furniture that is on legs?

Go here with the women! Worse than a division to command.

Which is very abused youth! Here, then, are there any of them: and with mind and heart the small. It is flattering and seems a bit podlasek; well, Yes, that's the Opera, so it may be, will be. If this baseness in his soul, so badly, and if only in manners, so big trouble there; the money and ranks it gradually disappears.