If in the first act you have hung a pistol on the wall, then in the following one it should be fired. Otherwise don't put it there.
Anton ChekhovRead
You've only got to begin to do anything to find out how few honest, honourable people there are. Sometimes, when I can't sleep, I think: "Oh Lord, you've given us huge forests, infinite fields, and endless horizons, and we, living here, ought really to be giants.
Interpretation
What this quote means
The quote reflects on the integrity of people and the potential greatness of humanity amidst a rich and vast environment.
In this quote, Anton Chekhov expresses a poignant observation about human nature and the disparity between the potential we have, symbolized by the vastness of nature, and the reality of the honesty and honor among people. He suggests that in a world filled with beauty and opportunities, it is disheartening to recognize the scarcity of truly noble individuals, prompting a reflection on both personal and societal shortcomings.
Themes
HonestyNatureIntegrityHuman PotentialReflection
In practice
Example use cases
This quote can be shared during a discussion about the importance of integrity in leadership.
More from Anton Chekhov
All quotes →There are still many more days of failure ahead, whole seasons of failure, things will go terribly wrong, you will have huge disappointments , but you have to prepare for that, you have to expect it and be resolute and follow your own path.
Anton ChekhovRead
Any idiot can face a crisis - it's day to day living that wears you out.
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To a chemist, nothing on earth is unclean. A writer must be as objective as a chemist; he must abandon the subjective line; he must know that dungheaps play a very respectable part in a landscape, and that evil passions are as inherent in life as good ones.
Anton ChekhovRead
When you want to touch the reader's heart, try to be colder. It gives their grief as it were, a background, against which it stands out in greater relief.
Anton ChekhovRead
Why are we worn out? Why do we, who start out so passionate, brave, noble, believing, become totally bankrupt by the age of thirty or thirty-five? Why is it that one is extinguished by consumption, another puts a bullet in his head, a third seeks oblivion in vodka, cards, a fourth, in order to stifle fear and anguish, cynically tramples underfoot the portrait of his pure, beautiful youth? Why is it that, once fallen, we do not try to rise, and, having lost one thing, we do not seek another? Why?
Anton ChekhovRead
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