“Woe to the heart that has not loved in youth!”
“To be young and not to know how, is bearable; to be old and not have the strength, is too great a weight to carry. And what's is so painful you can't sense your powers leaving you. It's hard for an old man to ensure such blows!”
“Victims of misfortune are quick to sense another of their kind from a distance, but in old age they rarely become friends, which is in no way surprising: they have nothing to share together - not even hope.”
“Traces of human life vanish very quickly: Glafira Petrovna's estate had not yet gone wild, but it seemed already to have sunk into that quiet repose which possesses everything on earth wherever there is no restless human infection to affect it.”
“Vai de inima care n-a iubit în tinerețe!”
“здесь незачем волноваться, нечего мутить; здесь только тому и удача, кто прокладывает свою тропинку не торопясь, как пахарь борозду плугом”
“А сверх того, вы все, вся ваша братия, — продолжал неугомонный Михалевич, — начитанные байбаки. Вы знаете, на какую ножку немец хромает, знаете, что плохо у англичан и у французов, — и вам ваше жалкое знание в подспорье идет, лень вашу постыдную, бездействие ваше гнусное оправдывает. Иной даже гордится тем, что я, мол, вот умница — лежу, а те, дураки, хлопочут.”
“О, это мление скуки — гибель русских людей!”
“There are seasons of our lives when nothing seems to be happening, when no smoke betrays a burned town or homestead and few tears are shed for the newly dead. I have learned not to trust those times, because if the world is at peace then it means someone is planning war.”
“Simple, Kate wanted to say. I'm already dead.
Instead, she'd pressed her lips together so hard it made her eyes water as she'd grabbed her prescriptions. The ones her therapist had assured her would help with the nausea and the insomnia. In reality, they'd nothing except make her feel as if she were underwater. Kate kept taking them in the hope she might eventually drown.”
“You faced him down like a seasoned warrior," he [Hector] says.
"Only because I had your daggers at my back.”
“Who do you serve?” Lanferelle asked.
“Sir John Cornerwailled,” Hook said proudly.
Lanferelle was pleased. “Sir John! Ah, there's a man. His mother must have slept with a Frenchman.”
“A grower of turnups Or shaper of clay, a commot Farmer or a king-Every man is a hero if he strives more for others than for himself alone.”
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