Anna Petrovna (to Shabelsky): You can't make a simple joke without an injection of venom. You are a poisonous man. Joking apart, Count, you're very poisonous. It's hideously boring to live with you. You're always grumpy, complaining, you find everyone bad, good for nothing. Tell me frankly, Count, did you ever speak well of anyone?

I am writing a play which I probably will not finish until the end of November. I am writing it with considerable pleasure, though I sin frightfully against the conventions of the stage. It is a comedy with three female parts, six male, four acts, a landscape (view of the lake), lots of talk on literature, little action and tons of love.

To believe in God is not hard. Inquisitors, Byron and Arakcheev believed in Him. No, believe in man!

All saints have past and all sinners have a future.

Try to reason about love, and you will lose your reason.

Better to perish from fools than to accept praises from them.

Calculating selfishness is the annihilation of self.