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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.

Ivan Turgenev

I only know that I feel tired, antiquated; I feel as though I had been living a long, long time.
IVAN TURGENEV

Feeling Live Myself Time
Who among us has the strength to oppose petty egoism, those petty good feelings, pity and remorse?
IVAN TURGENEV

Ego Feeling Goodness Strength
Circumstances define us; they force us onto one road or another, and then they punish us for it.
IVAN TURGENEV

Circumstance Force Punishment Road
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.
IVAN TURGENEV

Beginning Detail Fate Guide Hands Harsh Ourselves
If we wait for the moment when everything, absolutely everything is ready, we shall never begin.
IVAN TURGENEV

Beginning Moments Patience Wait
Nothing is worse and more hurtful than a happiness that comes too late.
IVAN TURGENEV

Happiness Hurt Late Worst
Belonging to oneself–the whole essence of life lies in that.
IVAN TURGENEV

Essence Life Lying Oneself
What’s terrible is that there’s nothing terrible, that the very essence of life is petty, uninteresting, and degradingly trite.
IVAN TURGENEV

Degrade Essence Life Terrible
I don’t see why it’s impossible to express everything that’s on one’s mind.
IVAN TURGENEV

Expression Impossible Mindset Oneself
What a magnificent body, how I should like to see it on the dissecting table.
IVAN TURGENEV

Body Myself Table
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
A son is like a lopped off branch. As a falcon he comes when he wills and goes where he lists.
IVAN TURGENEV

Branch Himself Son Willing
I walked in the meadows of green grieving for my life.
IVAN TURGENEV

Grieve Life Meadow Myself Walk
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.
IVAN TURGENEV

Aware Forever Moments Obligation Spiritual
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
I agree with no one’s opinion. I have some of my own.
IVAN TURGENEV

Myself Oneself Opinion

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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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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Popular Authors

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