Belonging to oneself–the whole essence of life lies in that.
IVAN TURGENEVWe sit in the mud and reach for the stars.
More Ivan Turgenev Quotes
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Death is like a fisherman, who, having caught a fish in his net, leaves it in the water for a time; the fish continues to swim about, but all the while the net is round it, and the fisherman will snatch it out in his own good time.
IVAN TURGENEV -
Even nightingales can’t be fed on fairy tales.
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I look up to heaven only when I want to sneeze.
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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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If we wait for the moment when everything, absolutely everything is ready, we shall never begin.
IVAN TURGENEV -
The word tomorrow was invented for indecisive people and for children.
IVAN TURGENEV -
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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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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In days of doubt, in days of dreary musings on my country’s fate, you alone are my comfort and support, oh great, powerful, righteous, and free Russian language!
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The past was a dream wasn’t it? And who ever remembers dreams?
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I only know that I feel tired, antiquated; I feel as though I had been living a long, long time.
IVAN TURGENEV -
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 -
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 -
I agree with no one’s opinion. I have some of my own.
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Behind me there are already so many memories Lots of memories, but no point in remembering them, and ahead of me a long, long road with nothing to aim for I just don’t want to go along it.
IVAN TURGENEV