I fell in love with literature. I read plays. I read poetry. I read novels. I especially liked the 19th century Russian novelist, Turgenev, the stories of Tolstoy and Chekhov stories, and I read that. I began to read them because they — I suppose because the relationship between those landowners and their peasants, their serfs, were so much like — and not like — the ones that I had come from. Those serfs and those peasants could become, probably, landowners themselves, or they can improve themselves. Whereas, where I had come from, it was impossible. So I read those books. I liked reading those books.