Except for two or three older writers, all modern literature seems to me not literature but some sort of handicraft, which exists only to be encouraged, though one is reluctant to use its products.

— Anton Chekhov

Existence is tedious, anyway.

— Anton Chekhov

Faith is an aptitude of the spirit. It is, in fact, a talent: you must be born with it.

— Anton Chekhov

Flies purify the air, and plays--the morals.

— Anton Chekhov

For God's sake, have some self-respect and do not run off at the mouth if your brain is out to lunch.

— Anton Chekhov

Formerly, when I would feel a desire to understand someone, or me, I would take into consideration not actions, in which everything is relative, but wishes. Tell me what you want and I'll tell you who you are.

— Anton Chekhov

For the salvation of his soul the Muslim digs a well. It would be a fine thing if each of us were to leave behind a school, or a well, or something of the sort, so that life would not pass by and retreat into eternity without a trace.

— Anton Chekhov

Going to see plays isn't what you people should do. Try looking at yourselves a little more often and see what gray lives you all lead. How much of what you say is unnecessary.

— Anton Chekhov

Happiness does not exist, nor should it, and if there is any meaning or purpose in life, they are not in our peddling little happiness, but in something reasonable and grand. Do good!

— Anton Chekhov

He had two lives: one, open, seen and known by all who cared to know, full of relative truth and of relative falsehood, exactly like the lives of his friends and acquaintances; and another life running its course in secret. And through some strange, perhaps accidental, conjunction of circumstances, everything that was essential, of interest and of value to him, everything in which he was sincere and did not deceive himself, everything that made the kernel of his life, was hidden from other people.

— Anton Chekhov