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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.

Ivan Turgenev

Even nightingales can’t be fed on fairy tales.
IVAN TURGENEV

Bird Fairy Tale Feed
It’s all romanticism, nonsense, rottenness, art.
IVAN TURGENEV

Art Romanticism Stupidity
Youth eats all the sugared fancy cakes and regards them as its daily bread. But there’ll come a time when you’ll start asking just for a crust.
IVAN TURGENEV

Eat Regard Time Yourself Youth
Time, as is well known, sometimes flies like a bird and sometimes crawls like a worm, but human beings are generally particularly happy when they don’t notice whether it’s passing quickly or slowly.
IVAN TURGENEV

Human Known Notice Pass Quick Time
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.
IVAN TURGENEV

Friendly Live People Soul Yourself
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 walked in the meadows of green grieving for my life.
IVAN TURGENEV

Grieve Life Meadow Myself Walk
Whatever man prays for, he prays for a miracle. Every prayer reduces itself.
IVAN TURGENEV

Man Miracle Prayer Reduce
Go and try to disprove death. Death will disprove you, and that’s all!
IVAN TURGENEV

Death Yourself
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
Nothing is worse and more hurtful than a happiness that comes too late. It can give no pleasure, yet it deprives you of that most precious of rights – the right to swear and curse at your fate!
IVAN TURGENEV

Curse Fate Happiness Hurt Precious Right Worst Yourself
The temerity to believe in nothing.
IVAN TURGENEV

Believe One Liner
One may speak about anything on earth with fire, with enthusiasm, with ecstasy, but one only speaks about oneself with avidity.
IVAN TURGENEV

Earth Fire Happiness Oneself Talk
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.
IVAN TURGENEV

Admit Afraid Heart Love Myself
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

Childhood Cultivation Life Ourselves Past Personality Task
He was the soul of politeness to everyone — to some with a hint of aversion, to others with a hint of respect.
IVAN TURGENEV

Himself Polite Respect Soul

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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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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