Nothing is worse and more hurtful than a happiness that comes too late.
IVAN TURGENEVIn my case there was no first love. I began with the second.
More Ivan Turgenev Quotes
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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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If we wait for the moment when everything, absolutely everything is ready, we shall never begin.
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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.
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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.
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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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Whatever a person may pray for, that person prays for a miracle. Every prayer comes down to this – Almighty God, grant that two times two not equal four.
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Everyone needs help from everyone else.
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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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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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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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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.
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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.
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We sit in the mud and reach for the stars.
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Bazarov drew himself up haughtily. “I don’t adopt any one’s ideas; I have my own.
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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