For a farce:  Fildekosov, Poprygunov.

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In former times a nice man, with principles, who wanted to be respected, would try to become a general or priest, but now he goes in for being a writer, professor....

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There is nothing which history will not justify.

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Zievoulia.[1]

[Footnote 1:  A name or word invented by Chekhov meaning “One who yawns for a long time with pleasure.”]

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The crying of a nice child is ugly; so in bad verses you may recognize that the author is a nice man.

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If you wish women to love you, be original; I know a man who used to wear felt boots summer and winter, and women fell in love with him.

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I arrive at Yalta.  Every room is engaged.  I go to the “Italy”—­not a room available.  “What about my room number 35”—­“It is engaged.”  A lady.  They say:  “Would you like to stay with this lady?  The lady has no objection.”  I stay in her room.  Conversation.  Evening.  The Tartar guide comes in.  My ears are stopped, my eyes blindfolded; I sit and see nothing and hear nothing....

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A young lady complains:  “My poor brother gets such a small salary—­only seven thousand!”

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She:  “I see only one thing now:  you have a large mouth!  A large mouth!  An enormous mouth!”

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The horse is a useless and pernicious animal; a great deal of land has to be tilled for it, it accustoms man not to employ his own muscles, it is often an object of luxury; it makes man effeminate.  For the future not a single horse.

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N. a singer; speaks to nobody, his throat muffled up—­he takes care of his voice, but no one has ever heard him sing.

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About absolutely everything:  “What’s the good of that?  It’s useless!”

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He wears felt boots summer and winter and gives this explanation:  “It’s better for the head, because the blood, owing to the heat, is drawn down into the feet, and the thoughts are clearer.”

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A woman is jocularly called Fiodor Ivanovitch.

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A farce:  N., in order to marry, greased the bald patch on his head with an ointment which he read of in an advertisement, and suddenly there began to grow on his head pig’s bristles.

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What does your husband do?—­He takes castor oil.

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