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?
IVAN TURGENEVMost people can’t understand how others can blow their noses differently than they do.
More Ivan Turgenev Quotes
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However much you knock at nature’s door, she will never answer you in comprehensible words.
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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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A person who gets angry at his own illness is sure to overcome it.
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I look up to heaven only when I want to sneeze.
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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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You may live a long while with some people and be on friendly terms with them and never speak openly with them from your soul.
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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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What a magnificent body, how I should like to see it on the dissecting table.
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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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Love 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.
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Death’s an old joke, but each individual encounters it anew.
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Each individual is more or less dimly aware of his significance, is aware that he’s something innately superior, something eternal–and lives, is obligated to live, in the moment and for the moment.
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One may speak about anything on earth with fire, with enthusiasm, with ecstasy, but one only speaks about oneself with avidity.
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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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A poet must be a psychologist, but a secret one: he should know and feel the roots of phenomena but present only the phenomena themselves in full bloom or as they fade away.
IVAN TURGENEV