“And he judged of others by himself, not believing in what he saw, and always believing that every man had his real, most interesting life under the cover of secrecy and under the cover of night. All personal life rested on secrecy, and possibly it was partly on that account that civilised man was so nervously anxious that personal privacy should be respected.”
“At home in Moscow everything was in its winter routine; the stoves were heated, and in the morning it was still dark when the children were having breakfast and getting ready for school, and the nurse would light the lamp for a short time. The frosts had begun already. When the first snow has fallen, on the first day of sledge-driving it is pleasant to see the white earth, the white roofs, to draw soft, delicious breath, and the season brings back the days of one's youth. The old limes and birches, white with hoar-frost, have a good-natured expression; they are nearer to one's heart than cypresses and palms, and near them one doesn't want to be thinking of the sea and the mountains.”
“ومن ثم لم يعد يصدق ما يراه وراح يعتقد أن الحياة الحقيقية للفرد، أن الحياة الممتعة حقا هي التي تجري في الخفاء وتحت ستار من الليل. والحقيقة أن كل حياة فردية محفوفة بالأسرار ، وربما كان هذا هو السبب الرئيسي في أن جميع المثقفين يلحون كل الالحاح في المطالبة باحترام الأسرار الشخصية”
“كان يجري بينه وبينهن كل ما يمكن أن يجري بين الرجل والمرأة، ماعدا الحب”
“Experience often repeated, truly bitter experience, had taught him long ago that with decent people, especially Moscow people -- always slow to move and irresolute -- every intimacy, which at first so agreeably diversifies life and appears a light and charming adventure, inevitably grows into a regular problem of extreme intricacy, and in the long run the situation becomes unbearable. But at every fresh meeting with an interesting woman this experience seemed to slip out of his memory, and he was eager for life, and everything seemed simple and amusing.”
“В Ореанде сидели на скамье, недалеко от церкви, смотрели вниз на море и молчали. Ялта была едва видна сквозь утренний туман, на вершинах гор неподвижно стояли белые облака. Листва не шевелилась на деревьях, кричали цикады, и однообразный, глухой шум моря, доносившийся снизу, говорил о покое, о вечном сне, какой ожидает нас. Так шумело внизу, когда еще тут не было ни Ялты, ни Ореанды, теперь шумит и будет шуметь так же равнодушно и глухо, когда нас не будет. И в этом постоянстве, в полном равнодушии к жизни и смерти каждого из нас кроется, быть может, залог нашего вечного спасения, непрерывного движения жизни на земле, непрерывного совершенства. Сидя рядом с молодой женщиной, которая на рассвете казалась такой красивой, успокоенный и очарованный ввиду этой сказочной обстановки — моря, гор, облаков, широкого неба, Гуров думал о том, как, в сущности, если вдуматься, все прекрасно на этом свете, все, кроме того, что мы сами мыслим и делаем, когда забываем о высших целях бытия, о своем человеческом достоинстве.”
“Анна Сергеевна и он любили друг друга, как очень близкие, родные люди, как муж и жена, как нежные друзья; им казалось, что сама судьба предназначила их друг для друга, и было непонятно, для чего он женат, а она замужем; и точно это были две перелетные птицы, самец и самка, которых поймали и заставили жить в отдельных клетках.”
“Anna Sergeevna e lui si amavano come due esseri molto vicini, affini, come marito e moglie, come se il destino li avesse destinati l'uno all'altra e non capivano perché li aveva fatti sposare con altri; erano come due uccelli migratori, maschio e femmina, catturati insieme e messi in due gabbie separate.”
“If Cape wasn't your last name, what was your real one?" I asked, deathly curious now. "Ahhhh," he complained. "Pincas Huckleburr.”
“He valued these experiences of joy more than anything else he had known, and he desired, as all who have experienced them desire, to have them again and again. It was this mystical quality that set him apart from other boys. He was surprised by joy. He spent the rest of his life searching for more of it.”
“Zu Hause ist da, wo deine Bücher sind.”
“That’s just ridiculous,” I breathed, awe and lust swirling through me like some heady elixir.”
“Beauvoir was so close to Frère Raymond”
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