I Am Who I Am And That's

This Was Not The Old Chichikov. This Was Some Wreckage Of The Old Chichikov. The Inner State Of His Soul Might Be Compared To A Demolished Building, Which Has Been Demolished So That From It A New One Could Be Built; But The New One Has Not Been Started Yet, Because The Infinitive Plan Has Not Yet Come From The Architect And The Workers Are Left In Perplexity.

The Longer And More Carefully We Look At A Funny Story, The Sadder It Becomes.

What Is Stronger In Us — Passion Or Habit? Or Are All The Violent Impulses, All The Whirl Of Our Desires And Turbulent Passions, Only The Consequence Of Our Ardent Age, And Is It Only Through Youth That They Seem Deep And Shattering?

Two Turtle Doves Will Show Thee Where My Cold Ashes Lie And Sadly Murmuring Tell Thee How In Tears I Did Die

Always Think Of What Is Useful And Not What Is Beautiful. Beauty Will Come Of Its Own Accord.