Ilovaiskaya peered in surprise into the darkness and saw only a red patch on the icon and a glimmering light from the stove on Likharyov’s face. The darkness, the ringing bell, the roar of the snowstorm, the lame boy, grumbling Sasha, unhappy Likharyov and his speeches - it was all mixing together, growing into one enormous impression, and God’s earth seemed to her fantastic, full of wonders and fantastic forces. All she had just heard rang in her ears, and human life seemed to her a fine, poetic fairly tale with no end.
Anton Chekhov, On The Road.
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