It is not that I belong to the past, but the past that belongs to me.

The czar always got his dues, no matter if it ruined a family.

A long past vividly remembered is like a heavy garment that clings to your limbs when you would run.

I have so little mastered the art of tranquil living that wherever I go I trail storm clouds of drama around me.

Our mothers are racked with the pains of our physical birth; we ourselves suffer the longer pains of our spiritual growth.

On a royal birthday every house must fly a flag, or the owner would be dragged to a police station and be fined twenty-five rubles.

I want now to be of today. It is painful to be conscious of two worlds. The Wandering Jew in me seeks forgetfulness.