Love

Nonfiction, Religion & Spirituality, New Age, History, Fiction & Literature
Cover of the book Love by Anton Pavlovich Chekhov, Library of Alexandria
View on Amazon View on AbeBooks View on Kobo View on B.Depository View on eBay View on Walmart
Author: Anton Pavlovich Chekhov ISBN: 9781465590534
Publisher: Library of Alexandria Publication: March 8, 2015
Imprint: Language: English
Author: Anton Pavlovich Chekhov
ISBN: 9781465590534
Publisher: Library of Alexandria
Publication: March 8, 2015
Imprint:
Language: English
THREE o'clock in the morning. The soft April night is looking in at my windows and caressingly winking at me with its stars. I can't sleep, I am so happy! My whole being from head to heels is bursting with a strange, incomprehensible feeling. I can't analyse it just now—I haven't the time, I'm too lazy, and there—hang analysis! Why, is a man likely to interpret his sensations when he is flying head foremost from a belfry, or has just learned that he has won two hundred thousand? Is he in a state to do it?" This was more or less how I began my love-letter to Sasha, a girl of nineteen with whom I had fallen in love. I began it five times, and as often tore up the sheets, scratched out whole pages, and copied it all over again. I spent as long over the letter as if it had been a novel I had to write to order. And it was not because I tried to make it longer, more elaborate, and more fervent, but because I wanted endlessly to prolong the process of this writing, when one sits in the stillness of one's study and communes with one's own day-dreams while the spring night looks in at one's window. Between the lines I saw a beloved image, and it seemed to me that there were, sitting at the same table writing with me, spirits as naïvely happy, as foolish, and as blissfully smiling as I. I wrote continually, looking at my hand, which still ached deliciously where hers had lately pressed it, and if I turned my eyes away I had a vision of the green trellis of the little gate. Through that trellis Sasha gazed at me after I had said goodbye to her. When I was saying good-bye to Sasha I was thinking of nothing and was simply admiring her figure as every decent man admires a pretty woman; when I saw through the trellis two big eyes, I suddenly, as though by inspiration, knew that I was in love, that it was all settled between us, and fully decided already, that I had nothing left to do but to carry out certain formalities.
View on Amazon View on AbeBooks View on Kobo View on B.Depository View on eBay View on Walmart
THREE o'clock in the morning. The soft April night is looking in at my windows and caressingly winking at me with its stars. I can't sleep, I am so happy! My whole being from head to heels is bursting with a strange, incomprehensible feeling. I can't analyse it just now—I haven't the time, I'm too lazy, and there—hang analysis! Why, is a man likely to interpret his sensations when he is flying head foremost from a belfry, or has just learned that he has won two hundred thousand? Is he in a state to do it?" This was more or less how I began my love-letter to Sasha, a girl of nineteen with whom I had fallen in love. I began it five times, and as often tore up the sheets, scratched out whole pages, and copied it all over again. I spent as long over the letter as if it had been a novel I had to write to order. And it was not because I tried to make it longer, more elaborate, and more fervent, but because I wanted endlessly to prolong the process of this writing, when one sits in the stillness of one's study and communes with one's own day-dreams while the spring night looks in at one's window. Between the lines I saw a beloved image, and it seemed to me that there were, sitting at the same table writing with me, spirits as naïvely happy, as foolish, and as blissfully smiling as I. I wrote continually, looking at my hand, which still ached deliciously where hers had lately pressed it, and if I turned my eyes away I had a vision of the green trellis of the little gate. Through that trellis Sasha gazed at me after I had said goodbye to her. When I was saying good-bye to Sasha I was thinking of nothing and was simply admiring her figure as every decent man admires a pretty woman; when I saw through the trellis two big eyes, I suddenly, as though by inspiration, knew that I was in love, that it was all settled between us, and fully decided already, that I had nothing left to do but to carry out certain formalities.

More books from Library of Alexandria

Cover of the book An Autumn Sowing by Anton Pavlovich Chekhov
Cover of the book The Duchess of Rosemary Lane: A Novel by Anton Pavlovich Chekhov
Cover of the book The Yajur Veda (Taittiriya Sanhita) by Anton Pavlovich Chekhov
Cover of the book Life and Its Mysteries by Anton Pavlovich Chekhov
Cover of the book An Autobiography And Miniature Essays by Anton Pavlovich Chekhov
Cover of the book Faustus: His Life, Death, and Doom by Anton Pavlovich Chekhov
Cover of the book La Tétralogie de l'Anneau du Nibelung by Anton Pavlovich Chekhov
Cover of the book La Tierra De Todos by Anton Pavlovich Chekhov
Cover of the book The Governess; Or, Little Female Academy by Anton Pavlovich Chekhov
Cover of the book The Secret Glory by Anton Pavlovich Chekhov
Cover of the book First in the Field: A Story of New South Wales by Anton Pavlovich Chekhov
Cover of the book The Little Clay Cart by Anton Pavlovich Chekhov
Cover of the book Die Entstehung der Kontinente und Ozeane by Anton Pavlovich Chekhov
Cover of the book South Africa and the Transvaal War, Vol. IV From Lord Roberts' Entry into the Free State to the Battle of Karree by Anton Pavlovich Chekhov
Cover of the book Our Little English Cousin by Anton Pavlovich Chekhov
We use our own "cookies" and third party cookies to improve services and to see statistical information. By using this website, you agree to our Privacy Policy