Time is just nature's way of keeping everything from happening at once

[shavonne zygmund]

   Hearty reception,

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                                    ----

    possible. Today he was too much agitated. He would have covered the
    picture, but he stopped, holding the cloth in his hand, and, smiling
    blissfully, gazed a long while at the figure of John. At last, as it
     were regretfully tearing himself away, he dropped the cloth, and,
    exhausted but happy, went home. Vronsky, Anna, and Golenishtchev, on
   their way home, were particularly lively and cheerful. They talked of
    Mihailov and his pictures. The word _talent_, by which they meant an
    inborn, almost physical, aptitude apart from brain and heart, and in
    which they tried to find an expression for all the artist had gained
     from life, recurred particularly often in their talk, as though it
     were necessary for them to sum up what they had no conception of,
   though they wanted to talk of it. They said that there was no denying
       his talent, but that his talent could not develop for want of
    education--the common defect of our Russian artists. But the picture
     of the boys had imprinted itself on their memories, and they were
    continually coming back to it. "What an exquisite thing! How he has
    succeeded in it, and how simply! He doesn't even comprehend how good
                               it is. Yes, I