Iโve lived to bury my desires, And see my dreams corrode with rust; Now all thatโs left are fruitless fires That burn my empty heart to dust.
Alexander PushkinIt's a lucky man, a very lucky man, who is committed to what he believes, who has stifled intellectual detachment and can relax in the luxury of his emotions - like a tipsy traveller resting for the night at wayside inn.
Alexander Pushkin