The Third Net
The end became the beginning. Seed rotted away after fresh, vigorous greenery emerged from it. Death and birth, being and eternity... There was this flow in human life, this endless replacement of one thing with another: merriment with sorrow, health with infirmity, hopes with despair. And vice versa. Just like milestones: where one ended, another began.
In Pereyaslav, after the bishop had driven him out of the Collegium, Skovoroda had gone to the lieutenant and spent the winter with him as if in paradise. True, he had bought neither a sheepskin coat nor boots. Well, that was nothing! His coat was still in one piece, and as for shoes... It was approaching summer now, not winter. And there would be money! Lord Tomara would not want his son’s teacher to go about barefoot like
