Vladimir Nabokov. Una cuestión de honor
"They are in the next coach," said Mityushin, taking out a cigarette case. "Why on earth do you keep yawning all the time, Anton Petrovich? It gives one the creeps."
"I always do in the morning," mechanically answered Anton Petrovich.
Pine trees, pine trees, pine trees. A sandy slope. More pine trees. Such a marvelous morning....
"That frock coat, Henry, is not a success," said Mityushin. "No question about it—to put it bluntly—it just isn't."
"That is my business," said Gnushke.
Lovely, those pines. And now a gleam of water. Woods again. How touching, the world, how fragile.