He's blessed, who lives in peace, that's distant <br />From the ignorant fobs with calls, <br />Who can provide his every instance <br />With dreams, or labors, or recalls; <br />To whom the fate sends friends in score, <br />Who hides himself by Savior's back <br />From bashful fools, which lull and bore, <br />And from the impudent ones, which wake.<br /><br />Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/solitude-5/
