We must make peace tomorrow with those with whom there was an accidental quarrel over nonsense, like Tolstoy and Turgenev. We must not make peace with enemies, not with slanderers and traitors - we did not quarrel with them. They just hurt us. But with those with whom the spat came out. Because of vague philosophical questions. Or because of politics. Or else because of something unimportant, in essence ... Tolstoy spat in the direction of Turgenev at a party; then they almost killed each other - all because of charity issues. And they fought for seventeen years. And then they listened to their soul: but there is no anger. And there is no enmity. There is longing and sadness. And it became so sad ... They wrote letters to each other and made up. We were already elderly. Turgenev soon died. It's good that two good people managed to make up, who quarreled over a trifle. We must have time to put up. There are few good people. Even if you spat, it's still better to make up. Moreover, they did not hit; specially spat by. Friends are few. And there is not a lot of time. Sometimes all you have to do is write a letter. Or call ...