Nothing Could Be More Pleasant

Man Is Such A Wondrous Being That It Is Never Possible To Count Up All His Merits At Once. The More You Study Him, The More New Particulars Appear, And Their Description Would Be Endless.

As It Is So Strangely Ordained In This World, What Is Amusing Will Turn Into Being Gloomy, If You Stand Too Long Before It, And Then God Knows What Ideas May Not Stray Into The Mind... Why Is It That Even In Moments Of Unthinking, Careless Gaiety A Different And Strange Mood Comes Upon One?

I Am Very Fond Of The Modest Manner Of Life Of Those Solitary Owners Of Remote Villages, Who In Little Russia Are Commonly Called "old-fashioned," Who Are Like Tumbledown Picturesque Little Houses, Delightful In Their Simplicity And Complete Unlikeness To The New Smooth Buildings Whose Walls Have Not Yet Been Discolored By The Rain, Whose Roofs Are Not Yet Covered With Green Lichen, And Whose Porch Does Not Display Its Bricks Through The Peeling Stucco.

There Exists A Kind Of Laughter Which Is Worthy To Be Ranked With The Higher Lyric Emotions And Is Infinitely Different From The Twitching Of A Mean Merrymaker.

We Ought To Thank God For That. Yes, The Man Who Tills The Land Is More Worthy Of Respect Than Any.