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I share no man’s opinions; I have my own.

Ivan Turgenev

If we wait for the moment when everything, absolutely everything is ready, we shall never begin.
IVAN TURGENEV

Beginning Moments Patience Wait
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.
IVAN TURGENEV

Character Fate Necessary People Responsibility Willing
Illness isn’t the only thing that spoils the appetite.
IVAN TURGENEV

Appetite Sick Spoil
Bazarov drew himself up haughtily. “I don’t adopt any one’s ideas; I have my own.
IVAN TURGENEV

Adopt Ideas Myself Opinion
I don’t see why it’s impossible to express everything that’s on one’s mind.
IVAN TURGENEV

Expression Impossible Mindset Oneself
A person who gets angry at his own illness is sure to overcome it.
IVAN TURGENEV

Angry Come Himself Person
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.
IVAN TURGENEV

Angry Failure Far Jealous Road Strength
That’s what children are for—that their parents may not be bored.
IVAN TURGENEV

Bored Children Parents
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.
IVAN TURGENEV

Body Condition Feeling Himself Love Permission Possession Sick Soul Willing
I was as happy as a fish in water, and I could have stayed in that room for ever, have never left that place.
IVAN TURGENEV

Happiness Myself Place Room Stay Water
In my case there was no first love. I began with the second.
IVAN TURGENEV

Beginning Love Myself
We’re young, we’re not monsters, no fools: we’ll conquer happiness for ourselves.
IVAN TURGENEV

Fools Happiness Monster Ourselves Young
The past was a dream wasn’t it? And who ever remembers dreams?
IVAN TURGENEV

Dreams Past Remember
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.
IVAN TURGENEV

Heat heavy Pass Return Sleep Time Wait
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?
IVAN TURGENEV

Expectation Future Hope Instant Mourn Oneself Rise
What a magnificent body, how I should like to see it on the dissecting table.
IVAN TURGENEV

Body Myself Table

I share no man’s opinions; I have my own.

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I share no man’s opinions; I have my own.

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