Tuesday, May 14

A fragment

There was a time, not so long ago, when love seemed so ‘easy and amusing’ – a child’s game, really – especially at first. Every time you met a new girl, and spent some time together, you fell in love; and, before you knew it, you were saying ‘i love you.’ You didn't care if it was a good thing or a bad thing, clever or stupid, right or wrong, how it would all end, and so on. Let the author concern himself with ‘the eternal verities of the heart.’ Let him theorize about love. You were happy. Love had made you both light-hearted and carefree. You were not going to mar your happiness, and cramp your style, by asking yourself a host of useless questions. Of course, all this led to a lot of unhappiness in the end, even suffering, and you suffered no less than others, but at least there were no regrets. Not until you met N. –– 

Monday, May 13

Talitha Cumi

Zhenya thought that, as i was an artist, i must know a great deal and could accurately guess what i didn't know. She wanted me to lead her into the realm of the eternal and beautiful, into that loftier world in which, she fancied, i was quite at home. And she spoke to me of God, of immortality, of the miraculous. I refused to admit that i and my imagination would parish forever after death. 'Yes, people are immortal. Yes, eternal life awaits us,' i replied. And she listened and believed - and she did not ask for proof.
(The House With the Mezzanine. Chekhov.)

Even at that hour when the grey sky of St. Petersburg is shrouded in total darkness and all its race of officials have dined and sated the...