Chekhov Stories-

The Kiss

"He looked down at the river which sped swiftly, murmuring almost inaudibly against the bathing-box piles. Near the left bank glowed the moon's ruddy reflection, overrun by ripples which stretched it, tore it in tow, and, it seemed, would sweep it away as things and shavings are swept."

Beautiful imagery-- who would think to write such an idea about the moon reflecting on the water? Marvelous.

La Gigale

"Ryabovsky, who stood beside her, was telling her that the black shadow on the water were not shadows, but a dream, and when gazing at those bewitching waters, with their fantastic glitter, when looking at that fathomless sky and those gloomy pensive banks, which spoke to them of the troubles of life and of the existence of something higher, something eternal and glorious, it would be well to forget oneself- to die- to become a memory. The past was mean and uninteresting, the future was insignificant, but this beautiful night, unique in a lifetime, would soon be over, it would be blended with eternity- why live at all?"

And the moments will float away, no matter how close they are to the "beautiful and eternal", as Dostoevsky put it. The concept of forgetting oneself is really marvelous, to blend into the beautiful, the "eternal and glorious", and to become part of the past... And so the question Chekhov puts, "why live at all?" If everything fades into the past that is "mean and uninteresting", and nothing last, why bother to live if nothing stays alive with you? The optimistic would say that the moment itself is something to live for, for moments will always come, fresher than the ones before. The pessimistic would fade along with the memories... I think the fading, the deadening of the past memories helps bring contrast to the fresh, green memories that are blooming in the Field of the Future. Yes, a little optimistic. But thinking pessimistically in this case, only asks us to die in the end, for really, there would be nothing to live for, if one is completely dependent on the here and now.

Verotchka

"Day-dreaming girls who spend whole days lying down or in desultory reading, who suffer from tedium and melancholy, usually dress without care. But if Nature has given them taste and the instinct of beauty, this negligence in dress has often a charm of its own."

I do like that there is a sort of peculiar nature when it comes to these "day-dreaming girls". They do prefer to be melancholy and lazy, and yet, that is how they thrive- how their imaginations take wind and fly beyond the horizon, the stars. These creatures are created to ponder the novels and concepts, while life is being lived without them. And yet, they live beyond this reality, in a world all of their own.

The Duel

"It seemed to her that all her bad memories had left her head and were walking in the darkness beside her and breathing heavily, while she herself, like a fly that had fallen into ink, forced herself to crawl down the sidewalk, staining Laevsky's side and arm with black."

Beautifully said; how her idea, even her "bad memories" became alive and "left her head". What will come out of ours, if this would be possible? Would our entire earth be roamed by the ghosts that haunt us in our minds?

"He dislodged his own dim star from the sky, it fell, and its traces mingled with the night's darkness; it would never return to the sky, because life is given only once and is not repeated."

The traces mingled with the night's darkness, as if it has never been... never existed. Change, continuation, can be a cruel thing.

At the Manor

"But gradually, and unnoticed by himself, he passed on to abuse and calumny, and, what is more surprising, delivered himself to severe criticisms of science, art, and morals, although it was twenty years since he had read a book, been farther than the government town, or had any channel for learning what was going on in the world around him. Even when he sat down to write a congratulatory letter he invariably ended by abusing something or somebody. And as he reflected upon this, it seemed all the more strange, since he knew himself in reality to be a sensitive, lachrymose old man. It seemed almost as if he were possessed by an unclean spirit which filled him against his will with hatred and grumbling."

It is extremely strange, that something takes possession of us, and makes us do things that we would never do in "reality". As if someone else is living our lives...getting angry, having dramatic reaction towards trifles. It is as if we consciously do the things that we would never do... And for whose purpose does this "unclean spirit" fill us with "hatred and grumbling"? Who benefits from this all?

The story of an unknown man

"I believe that for the coming generations, it will be easier and clearer; they will have our experience at their service. But one wants to live independently of the future generations and not merely for them. Life is given only once, and one would like to live it cheerfully, meaningfully, beautifully. One would like to play a prominent, independent, noble role; one would like to make history, so that those same generations would have no right to say of each of us; "He was a nonentity," or even worse than that...I do not believe in the purposefulness and necessity of what happens around us, but what does that necessity have to do with me? Why should my 'I' perish?"

Every single life that has passed mattered, no matter how insignificant...it was needed to make up generations, history, humanity.