A writer is not a confectioner, a cosmetic dealer, or an entertainer.
I donโt understand anything about the ballet; all I know is that during the intervals the ballerinas stink like horses.
You only have to start a job of work to realize how few decent, honest folk there are about.
The more refined one is, the more unhappy.
When asked, "Why do you always wear black?", he said, "I am mourning for my life.
Even in Siberia there is happiness.