All were happy - plants, birds, insects and children. But grown-up people - adult men and women - never left off cheating and tormenting themselves and one another. It was not this spring morning which they considered sacred and important, not the beauty of God's world, given to all creatures to enjoy - a beauty which inclines the heart to peace, to harmony and to love.
Leo TolstoyOne ought only to write when one leaves a piece of one's own flesh in the inkpot, each time one dips one's pen.
Leo Tolstoy