If you are politically sound, that is enough for you to be considered a perfectly satisfactory citizen; the same thing with radicals, to be politically unsound is enough, everything else will be ignored. * * * * * A man who when he fails opens his eyes wide. * * * * * Ziuzikov. * * * * * A Councillor of State, a respectable man; it suddenly comes out that he has secretly kept a brothel. * * * * * N. has written a good play; no one praises him or is pleased; they all say: "We'll see what you write next." * * * * * The more important people came in by the front door, the simple folk by the back door. * * * * * He: "And in our town there lived a man whose name was Kishmish (raisin). He called himself Kishmish, but every one knew that he was Kishmish." She (after some thought): "How annoying ... if only his name had been Sultana, but Kishmish!..." * * * * * Blagovospitanny. * * * * * Most honored Iv-Iv-itch! * * * * * How intolerable people are sometimes who are happy and successful in everything. * * * * * They begin gossiping that N. is living with Z.; little by little an atmosphere is created in which a liaison of N. and Z. becomes inevitable. * * * * * When the locust was a plague, I wrote against the locust and enchanted every one, I was rich and famous; but now, when the locust has long ago disappeared and is forgotten, I am merged in the crowd, forgotten, and not wanted. * * * * * Merrily, joyfully: "I have the honor to introduce you to Iv. Iv. Izgoyev, my wife's lover." * * * * * Everywhere on the estate are notices: "Trespassers will be prosecuted," "Keep off the flowers," etc. * * * * * In the great house is a fine library which is talked about but is never used; they give you watery coffee which you cannot drink; the garden is tasteless with no flowers in it--and they pretend that all this is something Tolstoian. * * * * * He learnt Swedish in order to study Ibsen, spent a lot of time and trouble, and suddenly realized that Ibsen is not important; he could not conceive what use he could now make of the Swedish language.[1] [Footnote 1: Ibsen wrote in Norwegian of course. Responding to a request for his interpretation of this curious paragraph. Mr. Koteliansky writes: