[Footnote 1: A cold dish composed of cider and hash.] * * * * * "If you lose this talisman," said grandmother, "you will die." And suddenly I lost it, tortured myself, was afraid that I would die. And now, imagine, a miracle happened: I found it and continued to live. * * * * * Everybody goes to the theatre to see my play, to learn something instantly from it, to make some sort of profit, and I tell you: I have not the time to bother about that canaille. * * * * * The people hate and despise everything new and useful; when there was cholera, they hated and killed the doctors and they love vodka; by the people's love or hatred one can estimate the value of what they love or hate. * * * * * Looking out of the window at the corpse which is being borne to the cemetery: "You are dead, you are being carried to the cemetery, and I will go and have my breakfast." * * * * * A Tchech Vtitchka. * * * * * A man, forty years old, married a girl of twenty-two who read only the very latest writers, wore green ribbons, slept on yellow pillows, and believed in her taste and her opinions as if they were law; she is nice, not silly, and gentle, but he separates from her. * * * * * When one longs for a drink, it seems as though one could drink a whole ocean--that is faith; but when one begins to drink, one can only drink altogether two glasses--that is science. * * * * * For a farce: Fildekosov, Poprygunov. * * * * * In former times a nice man, with principles, who wanted to be respected, would try to become a general or priest, but now he goes in for being a writer, professor.... * * * * * There is nothing which history will not justify. * * * * * Zievoulia.[1] [Footnote 1: A name or word invented by Chekhov meaning "One who yawns for a long time with pleasure."] * * * * * The crying of a nice child is ugly; so in bad verses you may recognize that the author is a nice man. * * * * * If you wish women to love you, be original; I know a man who used to wear felt boots summer and winter, and women fell in love with him. * * * * * I arrive at Yalta. Every room is engaged. I go to the "Italy"--not a room available. "What about my room number 35"--"It is engaged." A lady. They say: "Would you like to stay with this lady? The lady has no objection." I stay in her room. Conversation. Evening. The Tartar guide comes in. My ears are stopped, my eyes blindfolded; I sit and see nothing and hear nothing.... * * * * *