Circumstances define us; they force us onto one road or another, and then they punish us for it.
IVAN TURGENEVIt was only the vulgarly mediocre that repelled her.
More Ivan Turgenev Quotes
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A person who gets angry at his own illness is sure to overcome it.
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Death’s an old joke, but each individual encounters it anew.
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I was as happy as a fish in water, and I could have stayed in that room for ever, have never left that place.
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Death is like a fisherman, who, having caught a fish in his net, leaves it in the water for a time; the fish continues to swim about, but all the while the net is round it, and the fisherman will snatch it out in his own good time.
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Bazarov drew himself up haughtily. “I don’t adopt any one’s ideas; I have my own.
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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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Sternly, remorselessly, fate guides each of us; only at the beginning, when we’re absorbed in details, in all sorts of nonsense, in ourselves, are we unaware of its harsh hand.
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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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Nature creates while destroying, and doesn’t care whether it creates or destroys as long as life isn’t extinguished, as long as death doesn’t lose its rights.
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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 agree with no one’s opinion. I have some of my own.
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Youth eats all the sugared fancy cakes and regards them as its daily bread. But there’ll come a time when you’ll start asking just for a crust.
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I’m incapable of describing the feeling with which I left. I wouldn’t want it ever to be repeated, but I would have considered myself unfortunate if I’d never experienced it.
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Nature cares nothing for logic, our human logic: she has her own, which we do not recognize and do not acknowledge until we are crushed under its wheel.
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So many memories and so little worth remembering, and in front of me – a long, long road without a goal.
IVAN TURGENEV