How much better is silence; the coffee cup, the table. How much better to sit by myself like the solitary sea-bird that opens its wings on the stake. Let me sit here for ever with bare things, this coffee cup, this knife, this fork, things in themselves, myself being myself. Virginia Woolf, The Waves

Do you know what crushes my soul, Varenka? It is not money, but the worries of everyday life—the whispers of these people, their smiles, their jokes. — Poor Folk, Fyodor Dostoevsky

https://eitaa.com/joinchat/2354448080C4ce2df7454 چلنج رو اینجا گذاشتم چک کنید💓