“Ah me, but old age is not always a blessing, my beloved one!”

— Letter 1: April 8th, Makar Devushkin

“I am not a fastidious man, nor one who requires much. Never in my life have I been so comfortable as now.”

— Letter 3: April 8th, Makar Devushkin

“Up to the age of fourteen, when my father died, my childhood was the happiest period of my life.”

— Letter 8: June 1st, Varvara Dobroselova

“What a splendid thing is literature, Barbara—what a splendid thing! It strengthens and instructs the heart of man.”

— Letter 15: June 26th, Makar Devushkin

“Rubbish, rubbish, Barbara!—What you say is sheer rubbish.”

— Letter 18: July 1st, Makar Devushkin

“Why do I do my official work at all? Why is that necessary? Will my doing of it lead anyone who reads it to give me a greatcoat, or to buy me a new pair of shoes?”

— Letter 20: July 8th, Makar Devushkin

“Today I sat before my colleagues like a bear’s cub or a plucked sparrow, so that I fairly burned with shame.”

— Letter 25: August 1st, Makar Devushkin

“O Barbara Alexievna, I am undone—we are both of us undone! Both of us are lost beyond recall! Everything is ruined—my reputation, my self-respect, all that I have in the world!”

— Letter 32: August 11th, Makar Devushkin

“Take this. It is as much as I can afford. Treat it as you like.”

— Letter 39: September 9th, His Excellency

“By that act he restored me to myself. By that act he revived my courage, he made life forever sweet to me….”

— Letter 39: September 9th, Makar Devushkin

“Do not, do not forget your poor Barbara!”

— Letter 52: September 30th, Varvara Dobroselova

“Style? I do not know what I am writing. I never do know what I am writing.”

— Letter 52: September 30th, Makar Devushkin