Anton Chekhov.
I read "The Lady With the Dog" again today. I've read it four or five times before. Every time it's a sobering reminder (to me) of how no one can really truly know anyone else. Not simply because of duplicity or deceit, just because humans are so varied and so contained at the same time.
Reading the story today, I had a slightly different reaction. Yeah, Anton, the only thing you can really know is yourself. Why not make the most of it? I mean, I'm not not going to be letting myself down any time soon.
* Subject to change. I like a lot of Russians.
1 comment:
Yr pretty awesome.
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