Character: Pushkin

And at night there is silence.

Bachelor in light of the boring: it's a shame to see a new, young generation; one the father of the family looks without envy at the youth surrounding him.

They say that misfortune is a good school: maybe. But happiness is the best University. It completes the education of the soul, capable of good and beautiful.

Nashchokin busy with Affairs, and his house is such a muddle and a jumble, that the head around goes. From morning till evening he different people: players, retired hussars, students, solicitors, Gypsies, spies, particularly creditors. All free entry; all up a need; everyone shouts, smokes a pipe, eats, sings, dances; no angle free.

Why your wondrous pencil
Draws my Arab's profile?
Though you eyelids betray him,
It was booed Mephistopheles.
Draw Venison features.
In the heat of heart of inspiration,
Only youth and beauty
A fan must be a genius.

You know for a long time,
What you love no wonder
What gentle eyes you Armida,
What is a light mill you sylph,
Your scarlet lips,
As the harmonic rose.
And our rhymes, and our prose
Before you, the hustle and bustle.

You are spoilt for nature;
She's addicted to you was,
And our eternal praise
You seem tiresome ode.

It's time! to Moscow, to Moscow now!
Here the city is stiff, dull,
Here is ice, the heart - granite.

You can't imagine how fun to get away from the bride, and to sit down to write poetry.

You for Onegin suggest, my friends,
Again made me fall in leisure.
You say to me, he is alive and not married.
So, once the novel is not over - it is a treasure:
Put these in ample frame
New pattern - open the diorama:
Halt the audience, paying you for the input
(That will give you fame and income).

Pretty woman, of course, is free... to be free.

My daughter for the last five or six days had us worried. Think she teething. Though I try to reassure myself with the thought that all this have passed, but these little creatures are so fragile that it is impossible without a shudder to look at their suffering.

I'm not misleading you nor political nor literary news - I think they get tired just like all of us. There is nothing more wise as to sit in his village and to water the cabbage. The old adage that I apply to myself daily, in the midst of his secular and hectic lives.

Lost in fruitless trials
Was my inexperienced youth,
Stormy and seething in the heart feelings
And the hatred and dreams of revenge pale.