#Anton Chekhov quote

[aliyyaharte]

[mournfulroses]

Anton Chekhov, from The Complete Works of Anton Chekhov; “The Darling,”

[shisasan]

Anton Chekhov, After The Theatre [originally published 1892]

[perfectfeelings]

Nothing better than memories, and there is nothing worse than them.

Anton Chekhov

[thoughtkick]

People don’t notice whether it’s winter or summer when they’re happy.

Anton Chekhov

[stay-close]

Nothing better than memories, and there is nothing worse than them.

Anton Chekhov

[quotefeeling]

Nothing better than memories, and there is nothing worse than them.

Anton Chekhov

[perfeqt]

Nothing better than memories, and there is nothing worse than them.

Anton Chekhov

[asoftepiloguemylove]

Arcane (2021-2024) cr. Christian Linke & Alex Lee // unknown // Anton Chekhov // Anaïs Nin Nearer the Moon: From "A Journal of Love:" The Unexpurgated Diary of Anaïs Nin, 1937-1939 // Leila Chatti Night Lament in Hergla // Samuel Beckett Waiting for Godot // Sophocles Electra // Sarah Kane Cleansed // Car Seat Headrest Reuse the Cels // Ocean Vuong On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous

[daweyt]

“It is the beginning of summer yet I’m still irrevocably in love with a winter state of mind. I seem to never quite leave it behind me, nor do I want to leave it behind me.”

Anton Chekhov, from a diary entry written c. June 1888 and published in “Diaries.”

[oldschoolromantic]

[mournfulroses]

Anton Chekhov, from The Complete Works of Anton Chekhov; “The Bear,”

[amicus-noctis]

Вoth the russians and the french are depressed, the only difference is that the russians drink tea and the french drink coffee.

Is it also a coincidence that both of these authors have the same initials (A.C)? Or that they died almost at the same early age (44 for Chekhov and 46 for Camus)?

[perfectquote]

Nothing better than memories, and there is nothing worse than them.

Anton Chekhov

[thoughtkick]

Nothing better than memories, and there is nothing worse than them.

Anton Chekhov

[perfectfeelings]

People don’t notice whether it’s winter or summer when they’re happy.

Anton Chekhov