"There was a distinct inner music. The air was thin and transparent. One could hear the sound of one’s breathing, of snowflakes falling, of hoarfrost’s brush decorating the windowpane. Old villages still existed within Moscow limits, such as the wonderful Dyakovo, with its empty church on an ancient cemetery on a high scarp above Moscow River, wooden houses edged by deep ravines, and vast apple gardens where nightingales sang. Poetry was truly important---poems were rewritten by hand and learned by heart."