Thousands Of People Are Being Buried And

I Have Written Only What I Have Thought Through, Felt Through And Suffered Through.

I Don't Believe In Your "good". I Believe In Human Kindness.

Chekhov Said: Let's Put God - And All These Grand Progressive Ideas - To One Side. Let's Begin With Man; Let's Be Kind And Attentive To The Individual Man - Whether He's A Bishop, A Peasant, An Industrial Magnate, A Convict In The Sakhalin Islands, Or A Waiter In A Restaurant. Let's Begin With Respect, Compassion, And Love For The Individual - Or We'll Never Get Anywhere.

Ivan Tells Anna: "i Used To Imagine That Being Embraced By A Woman . . . As Something So Wonderful That It Would Make Me Forget Everthing . . . [but] Happiness, It Turns Out, Will Be To Share With You The Burden I Can't Share With Anyone Else.

There Was Something Terrible, But Also Something Sad And Melancholy In This Long Cry Uttered By The Russian Infantry As They Staged An Attack. As It Crossed The Cold Water, It Lost Its Fervour. Instead Of Valour Or Gallantry, You Could Hear The Sadness Of A Soul Parting With Everything That It Loved, Calling On Its Nearest And Dearest To Wake Up, To Lift Their Head From Their Pillows And Hear For The Last Time The Voice Of A Father, A Husband, A Son Or A Brother...