Vladimir Antonov, T. Danilevich, Translator
Two children have just come to my mind. Once I was one of the guests among a lot of people including families with children — some kind of celebration was going to take place. So I was sitting on the sofa. A baby climbed onto the sofa, crawled up to me and kissed me on the cheek sincerely, powerfully! He just poured his love over me! He kissed me with such a cordial love! If I was not familiar with his biography, I'd thought he had been a student of our school. For I never had seen such kids outside of our school. And here is another child. I met him some times in the streets of Petersburg. He was about five, probably. His look was that of hatred — dreadful, piercing look of hatred towards everything and everyone. And this look and this devilish inner state were present constantly. I met him first when he was tearing a hat of one of the boys of his age. Our glances met and he poured his hatred over me and ran away. Next time I saw him scratching someone's car with his knife. Our glances met again, there was the same hatred in his and he ran away again. These are two extremes. I heard such an idea that all children are little angels, we have to become like children and so on. So what kind of children?
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