I was not born to amuse the Tsars.

My dreams, my dreams! What has become of their sweetness? What indeed has become of my youth?

Moral maxims are surprisingly useful on occasions when we can invent little else to justify our actions.

I have outlasted all desire, My dreams and I have grown apart; My grief alone is left entire, The gleamings of an empty heart. The storms of ruthless dispensation Have struck my flowery garland numb, I live in lonely desolation And wonder when my end will come. Thus on a naked tree-limb, blasted By tardy winter's whistling chill, A single leaf which has outlasted Its season will be trembling still.

Try to be forgotten. Go live in the country. Stay in mourning for two years, then remarry, but choose somebody decent.

I do not like Moscow life. You live here not as you want to live, but as old women want you to.

I am married and happy. My only wish is that nothing will change.