Anyone who has crossed from the district of Bolkhov into that of Zhizdra will probably have been struck by the sharp difference between the natives of the provinces of Orel and Kaluga.

In my case there was no first love. I began with the second.

I never started from ideas but always from character.

One may speak about anything on earth with fire, with enthusiasm, with ecstasy, but one only speaks about oneself with avidity.

So long as one's just dreaming about what to do, one can soar like an eagle and move mountains, it seems, but as soon as one starts doing it one gets worn out and tired.

The fact is that previously they were simply dunces and now they've suddenly become nihilists.

So many memories and so little worth remembering, and in front of me - a long, long road without a goal.