"Day and night, like an incubus, the idea chokes me that my life has been wasted irretrievably. I’ve got no past, it’s been stupidly squandered on trivialities, and the present is horrible in its absurdity. Here, take my life and my love; what am I to do with them? My better feelings are fading away for no reason at all, like a sunbeam trapped at the bottom of a mine shaft, and I’m fading along with them."

Uncle Vanya, Anton Chekhov
2 days ago ( 88)
Anna Akhmatova, from “White Flock” (1914)
3 days ago ( 620) / via / source


Efros N.
TEATR ‘LETUCHAIA MYSH” (Theater ‘The Bat’). Review of 10-years artistic activity of the first Russian theater-cabaret. 
Petrograd: ‘Solntse Rossii’, [1918].

4 days ago ( 37) / via / source


Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Gambler

5 days ago ( 890) / via / source
"It drags you down, this life. You’re surrounded by crackpots, nothing but crackpots; you live with them for two, three years and, little by little, without noticing it, you turn into a crackpot yourself."

Uncle Vanya, Anton Chekhov
1 week ago ( 94)
"But this dark is deep:
now I warm you with my blood, listen
to this flesh.
It is far truer than poems."

— Marina Tsvetaeva, from “Poem of the End” (translated by Elaine Feinstein)
1 week ago ( 703) / via / source
"I am aware of myself. And, of course, the only things that are aware of themselves and conscious of their individuality are irritated eyes, cut fingers, sore teeth. A healthy eye, finger, tooth might as well not even be there. Isn’t it clear that individual consciousness is just sickness?"

— Yevgeny Zamyatin, We
1 week ago ( 98) / via
"His situation at that moment was like that of a man standing above a terrible chasm when the ground has begun to break away, is already rocking and sliding, sways for the last time and falls, carrying him into the abyss, while the poor wretch has neither the strength nor the willpower to spring backwards or to turn his eyes away from the yawning gulf; the abyss draws him and at last he leaps into it of his own accord, hastening his own doom."

— Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Double
1 week ago ( 92) / via


from Vladimir Mayakovsky: A Tragedy (1913), Vladimir Mayakovsky

1 week ago ( 61) / via


Pyotr Sokolov was a distinguished aquarelle portraitist who painted well-known figures of the middle of the XIX century. Among his sitters were noblemen, Decembrists, Pushkin and friends etc.

2 weeks ago ( 1079) / via / source