How intense can be the longing to escape from the emptiness and dullness of human verbosity, to take refuge in nature, apparently so inarticulate, or in the wordlessness of long, grinding labour, of sound sleep, of true music, or of a human understanding rendered speechless by emotion!

Only one who loves can remember so well.

"When you don't know what you're living for, you don't care how you live from one day to the next. You're happy the day has passed and the night has come, and in your sleep you bury the tedious question of what you lived for that day and what you're going to live for tomorrow"

- Ivan Goncharov

“I almost do not exist now and I know it; God knows what lives in me in place of me.”

How wonderful to be alive, he thought. But why does it always hurt?

But sleep? On a night like this? What an idea! Just think of how many thoughts a blanket smothers while one lies alone in bed, and how many unhappy dreams it keeps warm.

I am a cage in search of a bird.

But what can be done, the one who loves must share the fate of the one he loves.