Idea for a short story. The shore of a lake, a young girl who's spent her whole life beside it, a girl like you She loves the lake the way a seagull does, and she's happy and free as a… — Anton Chekhov Copy Share Image
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… — Anton Chekhov Copy Share Image
“Using vile means to attain worthy ends makes the ends themselves vile. Let them ride on the backs of doctors and medical assistants, but… — Anton Chekhov Copy Share Image
There are still many more days of failure ahead, whole seasons of failure, things will go terribly wrong, you will have huge disappointments ,… — Anton Chekhov Copy Share Image
“But here was all the timorousness and angularity of inexperienced youth, a feeling of awkwardness, and an impression of bewilderment, as if someone had… — Anton Chekhov Copy Share Image
“At the water's edge, barrels of pitch blazed like huge bonfires. Their reflection, crimson as the rising moon, crept to meet us in long,… — Anton Chekhov Copy Share Image
Anna Petrovna: Never talk to women about your own good qualities. Let them find out for themselves. — Anton Chekhov Copy Share Image
While you're playing cards with a regular guy or having a bite to eat with him, he seems a peaceable, good-humoured and not entirely… — Anton Chekhov Copy Share Image
“Lebedev: France has a clear and defined policy... The French know what they want. They just want to wipe out the Krauts, finish, but… — Anton Chekhov Copy Share Image
“My holy of holies are the human body, health, intelligence, talent, inspiration, love, and the most absolute freedom - freedom from force and falsity,… — Anton Chekhov Copy Share Image
“What we have, we do not treasure,” and what’s more we do not even love it.” — Anton Chekhov Copy Share Image
No matter how corrupt and unjust a convict may be, he loves fairness more than anything else. If the people placed over him are… — Anton Chekhov Copy Share Image
