“Men are like rivers; the water is the same in each, and alike in all; but every river is narrow here, is more rapid there, here slower, there broader, now clear, now cold, now dull, now warm”.
“And you would accept the seasons of your heart, even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields.
And you would watch with serenity through the winters of your grief”.
“All this world of ours is nothing but a speck of mildew, which has grown up on a tiny planet. And for us to suppose we can have something great — ideas, work — it’s all dust and ashes”.
Konstantin Dmitrič Lèvin