Useless pursuits and conversations always about the same things absorb the better part of one's time, the better part of one's strength, and in the end there is left a life grovelling and curtailed, worthless and trivial, and there is no escaping or getting away from itโjust as though one were in a madhouse or prison.
Anton ChekhovI've never been in love. I've dreamt of it day and night, but my heart is like a fine piano no one can play because the key is lost.
Anton ChekhovIt's even pleasant to be sick when you know that there are people who await your recovery as they might await a holiday.
Anton Chekhov[In] death at least there would be one profit; it would no longer be necessary to eat, to drink, to pay taxes, or to [offend] others; and as a man lies in his grave not one year, but hundreds and thousands of years, the profit was enormous. The life of man was, in short, a loss, and only his death a profit.
Anton Chekhov