Let Me Warn You, If You Start

They Don’t Listen To Me, They Don’t Hear Me, They Don’t See Me.

I Am Very Fond Of The Modest Manner Of Life Of Those Solitary Owners Of Remote Villages, Who In Little Russia Are Commonly Called "old-fashioned," Who Are Like Tumbledown Picturesque Little Houses, Delightful In Their Simplicity And Complete Unlikeness To The New Smooth Buildings Whose Walls Have Not Yet Been Discolored By The Rain, Whose Roofs Are Not Yet Covered With Green Lichen, And Whose Porch Does Not Display Its Bricks Through The Peeling Stucco.

Steeds, Steeds, What Steeds! Has The Whirlwind A Home In Your Manes?

Like All Of Us Sinners, General Betrishchev Was Endowed With Many Virtues And Many Defects. Both The One And The Other Were Scattered Through Him In A Sort Of Picturesque Disorder. Self-sacrifice, Magnanimity In Decisive Moments, Courage, Intelligence--and With All That, A Generous Mixture Of Self-love, Ambition, Vanity, Petty Personal Ticklishness, And A Good Many Of Those Things Which A Man Simply Cannot Do Without.

They're Thinking Of Turning The Peasant Into An Educated Man. Why, First Of All They Should Make Him A Good And Prosperous Farmer And Then He'll Learn All That Is Necessary For Him To Know.