Also, Though Not Over-elderly, He Was Not

There Are Certain Words Which Are Nearer And Dearer To A Man Than Any Others.

In The Course Of Reading He [alexander Pushkin] Became More And More Melancholy And Finally Became Completely Gloomy. When The Reading Was Over He Uttered In A Voice Full Of Sorrow: "goodness, How Sad Is Our Russia!"

Nothing Could Be More Pleasant Than To Live In Solitude, Enjoy The Spectacle Of Nature, And Occasionally Read Some Book.

In The End Dreams Became His Life, And His Whole Life Thereafter Took A Strange Turn: One Might Say He Slept While Waking And Watched While Asleep.

Everywhere Across Whatever Sorrows Of Which Our Life Is Woven, Some Radiant Joy Will Gaily Flash Past.