Also, Though Not Over-elderly, He Was Not

But Wise Is The Man Who Disdains No Character, But With Searching Glance Explores Him To The Root And Cause Of All.

I Shall Laugh My Bitter Laugh.

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!"

It's Not My Job To Preach A Sermon. Art Is Anyhow A Homily. My Job Is To Speak In Living Images, Not In Arguments. I Must Exhibit Life Full-face, Not Discuss Life.

A Word Aptly Uttered Or Written Cannot Be Cut Away By An Axe.