Uncle Vanya (Illustrated)

by Anton Chekhov

"Straining the mind, wrinkling the brow, We write, write, write, Without respite Or hope of praise in the future or now."

for twenty-five years he has been reading and writing things that clever men have long known and stupid ones are not interested in;

God alone knows what a man's real calling is.

Man is endowed with reason and the power to create, so that he may increase that which has been given him, but until now he has not created, but demolished.

If you could only see your face, your gestures! Oh, how tedious your life must be.

But, as I was saying, life holds nothing for me; my race is run. I am old, I am tired, I am trivial; my sensibilities are dead. I could never attach myself to any one again.

I am a book-worm and a scholar, and am unfamiliar with practical affairs.

My life has been a failure. I am clever and brave and strong. If I had lived a normal life I might have become another Schopenhauer or Dostoieffski. I am losing my head!

When the geese have cackled they will be still again. First they cackle and then they stop.

I used to think every fool was out of his senses, but now I see that lack of sense is a man's normal state, and you are perfectly normal.

So go! E finita la comedia!