All human beings hang by a thread, an abyss may open under their feet at any moment, and yet they have to go and invent all sorts of difficulties for themselves and spoil their lives.
IVAN TURGENEVGreat God, grant that twice two be not four.
More Ivan Turgenev Quotes
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Belonging to oneself–the whole essence of life lies in that.
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I look up to heaven only when I want to sneeze.
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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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To desire and expect nothing for oneself and to have profound sympathy for others is genuine holiness.
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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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The fact is that previously they were simply dunces and now they’ve suddenly become nihilists.
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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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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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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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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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I’m through with Tolstoy. He has ceased to exist for me…. If I eat a bowl of soup and like it, I know by that fact alone and with absolute certainty that Tolstoy will find it bad, and vice versa.
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It was only the vulgarly mediocre that repelled her.
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However much you knock at nature’s door, she will never answer you in comprehensible words.
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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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No matter how often you knock at nature’s door, she won’t answer in words you can understand–for Nature is dumb. She’ll vibrate and moan like a violin, but you mustn’t expect a song.
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A son is like a lopped off branch. As a falcon he comes when he wills and goes where he lists.
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Great God, grant that twice two be not four.
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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 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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Circumstances define us; they force us onto one road or another, and then they punish us for it.
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Ah, but in time the heat of noontide passes, and to it there succeed nightfall and dusk, with a return to the quiet fold where for the weary an the heavy-laden there waits sleep, sweet sleep.
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I only know that I feel tired, antiquated; I feel as though I had been living a long, long time.
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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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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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I share no man’s opinions; I have my own.
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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.
IVAN TURGENEV