Ivan Turgenev Quotes
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The fact is that previously they were simply dunces and now they've suddenly become nihilists.
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Take what you can yourself, and don't let others get you into their hands; to belong to oneself, that is the whole thing in life.
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The past was a dream wasn't it? And who ever remembers dreams?
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Art, if one employs this term in the broad sense that includes poetry within its realm, is an art of creation laden with ideals, located at the very core of the life of a people, defining the spiritual and moral shape of that life.
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The word tomorrow was invented for indecisive people and for children.
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I don't see why it's impossible to express everything that's on one's mind.
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We Russians have assigned ourselves no other task in life but the cultivation of our own personalities, and when we're barely past childhood, we set to work to cultivate them, those unfortunate personalities.
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Don't force me into saying what I don't want to say, and what I won't say.
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To desire and expect nothing for oneself and to have profound sympathy for others is genuine holiness.
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Oh, gentle feelings, soft sounds, the goodness and the gradual stilling of a soul that has been moved; the melting happiness of the first tender, touching joys of love- where are you?
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A person who gets angry at his own illness is sure to overcome it.
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In my case there was no first love. I began with the second.
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However much you knock at nature's door, she will never answer you in comprehensible words.
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I believe love produces a certain flowering of the whole personality which nothing else can achieve.
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There are some moments in life, some feelings; one can only point to them and pass by.
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Go forward while you can, but if your strength fails you, sit down near the road and gaze without anger or envy at those who pass by. They don't have far to go, either.
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Nothing is worse and more hurtful than a happiness that comes too late.
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Whatever man prays for, he prays for a miracle. Every prayer reduces itself.
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Only one thing bothered me: at this very moment, as they say, of inexplicable bliss there would be a sinking feeling at the pit of my stomach and my abdomen would be assailed by a melancholy, cold shivering. In the end I couldn't abide such happiness and ran away.
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There is a sweetness in being the sole source, the autocratic and irresponsible cause of the greatest joy and profoundest pain to another.
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That is what poetry can do. It speaks to us of what does not exist, which is not only better than what exists, but even more like the truth.
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If we wait for the moment when everything, absolutely everything is ready, we shall never begin.
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Most people can't understand how others can blow their noses differently than they do.
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What a magnificent body, how I should like to see it on the dissecting table.