Moscow... How Many Strains Are Fusing In

Try To Be Forgotten. Go Live In The Country. Stay In Mourning For Two Years, Then Remarry, But Choose Somebody Decent.

But Even Friendship Like Our Heroes' Exist No More; For We've Outgrown All Sentiments And Deem Men Zeroes-- Except Of Course Ourselves Alone. We All Take On Napoleon's Features, And Millions Of Our Fellow Creatures Are Nothing More To Us Than Tools... Since Feelings Are For Freaks And Fools. Eugene, Of Course, Had Keen Perceptions And On The Whole Despised Mankind, Yet Wasn't, Like So Many, Blind; And Since Each Rule Permits Exceptions, He Did Respect A Noble Few, And, Cold Himself, Gave Warmth Its Due.

My Dreams, My Dreams! What Has Become Of Their Sweetness? What Indeed Has Become Of My Youth?

Moscow... How Many Strains Are Fusing In That One Sound, For Russian Hearts! What Store Of Riches It Imparts!

A Deception That Elevates Us Is Dearer Than A Host Of Low Truths.