No way, my friend! There are no roads. If your action is pure, you are the Truth. Does the Truth need a road and roads? Only he who has lost his pure action seeks a way and ways…
There are moments when you just stop - to expect, to pursue, to seek, to chase, to want. You let everything go and accept everything as it happens. You don't wonder if you're wrong and where you're wrong. You don't fill your head with unnecessary puzzles. Whatever needs to happen will happen. Whoever has to be here is here. Whoever has to come will come. You go your own way and you don't look back. It is simple and easy. Everything happens at the right time and in the right place. Neither earlier nor later than when you are ready.
For his 26 years of creative activity, he created about 900 works, mostly humorous stories, plays and novels, which became classic works of world literature. Many experts consider him one of the best short story writers in the world.
Chekhov worked as a doctor almost all his life while writing his literary works. In his words, "medicine is my legal wife, and literature is my mistress."
Anton Pavlovich Chekhov is a Russian writer and playwright, a doctor by profession.
He is the author of numerous short stories as well as plays that had a strong influence on the drama of the 20th century.
His vocation comes as a joke, but until the end of his days, Chekhov will try to distance himself from lies, vulgarity and all the other black drives that bewitch the human being. The writer, the doctor, the philanthropist even, these are all images of a person that few have the honor of knowing. Each of his friends has only been able to see a small part of his true self. His story ends in 1904. He goes to the Black Forest, where doctors try to save him and repair the damage from tuberculosis.
On July 2, he wakes up in terrible pain and the bitter taste of approaching death. According to Olga - his wife, the writer only asked for champagne. For his goodness and his humility, life gives him time to drink his last cup and then die in bed…
Everything else is history, bequeathed in literature and his good deeds. Let's not forget that Michelangelo once awaited death in his favorite shirt. Every end of the creator is strange, but few are those who managed to meet their end with pride.
Chekhov was ahead of his time and not even credited in his own country, but he will often remind of his only calling - to write as much as possible until his fingers break…
Here some of his most inspiring thoughts:
The higher a person stands in his mental and moral development, the freer he is and the more pleasure life gives him.
I don't want anything special to come out of me or to create something great, but I just want to live, dream, hope, be good everywhere…
A life spent in idleness cannot be pure.
There is no sweeter rest than hard-earned rest.
A person likes to talk about his illnesses, and by the way, this is the most uninteresting thing in his life.
I believe that nothing passes without a trace and that every smallest step matters for the present and the future life.
Good manners: It is not about not spilling sauce on the tablecloth, it's about not reprimanding the person who did.
Smart people, when they are condescending to the ignorant, are extremely likable.
It is necessary to strive for everyone to see and know more than his father and grandfather saw and knew.
If a weapon hangs on the stage in the first act, it must fire in the last act.
Indifference is paralysis of the soul.
Only fools and charlatans know everything and understand everything.
The cheapness of Russian goods is a certificate of their unworthiness.
It is beautiful where we are not: in the past we are not, and therefore it seems beautiful to us.
Children are holy and pure. We should not make them toys of our mood.
A man is what he thinks of himself.
A man is what he believes.
In a person, everything should be beautiful: the face, the clothes, the soul, and the thoughts.
We should be mentally clear, morally clean and neat physically.
They say that in the end the truth will prevail - but this is not true.
Love, friendship and respect do not unite like a common hatred of something.
It is easier to beg from the poor than from the rich.
And while all the great writers celebrate and rejoice at each subsequent title, Chekhov continues to distance himself and humbly create, leading the endless race against time. His gifts, as he himself will write to a friend, are insignificant.
A quick look shows to us that this is a person who had no time for his own health, did not value himself highly and at the same time had a single mission - to make the world a little better and truer.
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