A son is like a lopped off branch. As a falcon he comes when he wills and goes where he lists.
IVAN TURGENEVLove isn’t actually a feeling at all–it’s an illness, a certain condition of body and soul…. Usually it takes possession of someone without his permission, all of a sudden, against his will–just like cholera or a fever.
More Ivan Turgenev Quotes
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In days of doubt, in days of dreary musings on my country’s fate, you alone are my comfort and support, oh great, powerful, righteous, and free Russian language!
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I’ve become convinced that every person should treat himself strictly and even rudely and distrustfully; it’s difficult to tame the beast in oneself.
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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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I was afraid of looking into my heart…afraid of thinking seriously about anything…I did not want to know whether I was loved, and I did not want to admit to myself that I was not loved.
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Great God, grant that twice two be not four.
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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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To desire and expect nothing for oneself and to have profound sympathy for others is genuine holiness.
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The fact is that previously they were simply dunces and now they’ve suddenly become nihilists.
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He was the soul of politeness to everyone — to some with a hint of aversion, to others with a hint of respect.
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A person who gets angry at his own illness is sure to overcome it.
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The past was a dream wasn’t it? And who ever remembers dreams?
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The word tomorrow was invented for indecisive people and for children.
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People without firmness of character love to make up a fate for themselves; that relieves them of the necessity of having their own will and of taking responsibility for themselves.
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What did I hope for, what did I expect, what rich future did I foresee, when the phantom of my first love, rising up for an instant, barely called forth one sigh, one mournful sentiment?
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What a magnificent body, how I should like to see it on the dissecting table.
IVAN TURGENEV