“The belief in a supernatural source of evil is not necessary; men alone are quite capable of every wickedness.”
“Words, as is well known, are the great foes of reality.”
“To a teacher of languages there comes a time when the world is but a place of many words and man appears a mere talking animal not much more wonderful than a parrot.”
“The man who says that he has no illusions has at least that one.”
“The belief in a super natural sources of evil is not necessary. Men alone are quite capable of every wickedness.”
“Everything is inconceivable. The whole world is inconceivable to the strict logic of ideas. And yet the world exists to our senses, and we exist in it. There must be a necessity superior to our conceptions.”
“I am quite willing to be the blind instrument of higher ends. To give one's life for the cause is nothing. But to have one's illusions destroyed - that is really almost more than one can bear.”
“I can't afford to despise anything. An absurdity may be the starting-point of the most dangerous complications.”
“To cut oneself entirely from one's kind is impossible. To live in a desert one must be a saint.”
“In life, you see, there is not much choice. You have either to rot or to burn. And there is not one of us, painted or unpainted, that would not rather burn than rot.”
“That propensity of lifting every problem from the plane of the understandable by means of some sort of mystic expression, is very Russian. I knew her well enough to have discovered her scorn for all the practical forms of political liberty known to the western world. I suppose one must be a Russian to understand Russian simplicity, a terrible corroding simplicity in which mystic phrases clothe a naive and hopeless cynicism. I think sometimes that the psychological secret of the profound difference of that people consists in this, that they detest life, the irremediable life of the earth as it is, whereas we westerners cherish it with perhaps an equal exaggeration of its sentimental value. But this is a digression indeed....”
“I don't know the world, nor yet the people in it; I have been too solitary - I am too young to trust my own opinions.”
“Everybody had to be thoroughly understood before being accepted.”
“It's a long time since God has done anything for the people.”
“Yes, the sound of water, the voice of the wind - completely foreign to human passions. All the other sounds of this earth brought contamination to the solitude of a soul.”
“The field of influence was great and infinitely varied - once one had conquered a name.”
“There must be a wonderful soothing power in mere words since so many men have used them for self-communion. Being”
“For the dead can live only with the exact intensity and quality of the life imparted to them by the living.”
“outside, the clear-cut strokes of the town clock counting”
“You are a son, a brother, a nephew, a cousin--I don't know what--to no end of people. I am just a man. Here I stand before you. A man with a mind. Did it ever occur to you how a man who had never heard a word of warm affection or praise in his life would think on matters on which you would think first with or against your class, your domestic tradition--your fireside prejudices?... Did you ever consider how a man like that would feel? I have no domestic tradition. I have nothing to think against. My tradition is historical. What have I to look back to but that national past from which you gentlemen want to wrench away your future? Am I to let my intelligence, my aspirations towards a better lot, be robbed of the only thing it has to go upon at the will of violent enthusiasts? You come from your province, but all this land is mine--or I have nothing. No doubt you shall be looked upon as a martyr some day--a sort of hero--a political saint. But I beg to be excused. I am content in fitting myself to be a worker. And what can you people do by scattering a few drops of blood on the snow? On this Immensity. On this unhappy Immensity! I tell you...[what] it needs is not a lot of haunting phantoms that I could walk through--but a man!”
“He cast his eyes upwards and stood amazed. The snow had ceased to fall, and now, as if by a miracle, he saw above his head the clear black sky of the northern winter, decorated with the sumptuous fires of the stars. It was a canopy fit for the resplendent purity of the snows.”
“In Russia, the land of spectral ideas and disembodied aspirations, many brave minds have turned away at last from the vain and endless conflict to the one great historical fact of the land. They turned to autocracy for the peace of their patriotic conscience as a weary unbeliever, touched by grace, turns to the faith of his fathers for the blessing of spiritual rest. Like other Russians before him, Razumov, in conflict with himself, felt the touch of grace upon his forehead.”
“The last thing I want to tell you is this: in a real revolution—not a simple dynastic change or a mere reform of institutions—in a real revolution the best characters do not come to the front. A violent revolution falls into the hands of narrow-minded fanatics and of tyrannical hypocrites at first. Afterwards comes the turn of all the pretentious intellectual failures of the time. Such are the chiefs and the leaders. You will notice that I have left out the mere rogues. The scrupulous and the just, the noble, humane, and devoted natures; the unselfish and the intelligent may begin a movement—but it passes away from them. They are not the leaders of a revolution. They are its victims: the victims of disgust, of disenchantment—often of remorse. Hopes grotesquely betrayed, ideals caricatured—that is the definition of revolutionary success. There have been in every revolution hearts broken by such successes. But enough of that. My meaning is that I don’t want you to be a victim.”
“Words, as is well known, are the great foes of reality. I”
“The true Razumov had his being in the willed, in the determined future—in that future menaced by the lawlessness of autocracy—for autocracy knows no law—and the lawlessness of revolution.”
“Originea sa cea mai directă se afla în declarația că era un rus. Orice aștepta el de la viață urma să i se dea, ori să i se refuze, doar prin această filiație. Imensa familie suferea acum din cauza disensiunilor interne, iar el se sustrăgea mental din diferend, așa cum orice om de bun-simț s-ar abține de la a lua partea cuiva într-o violentă ceartă de familie.”
“Adevărata viață a unui om este aceea care i se acordă în mintea altora pe baza respectului sau a dragostei firești.”
“Sentimentul continuității vieții se bazează pe neînsemnate impresii corporale. Banalitățile vieții cotidiene constituie o armură pentru suflet.”
“Se gândi doar că viața fără fericire era imposibilă. Ce era fericirea?... A privi înainte era fericirea – atâta tot, nimic mai mult. A privi înainte sperând la împlinirea unei dorințe, răsplata unei anume pasiuni, iubiri, ambiții, uri – fără îndoială și a urii. Dragoste și ură. Și să scapi în fața primejdiilor existenței, să trăiești fără teamă, constituia și asta fericirea. Nimic altceva. Absența fricii, privirea spre viitor.”
“Era o femeie zveltă, într-o rochie neagră din mătase. O frunte înaltă, trăsături regulate și buzele delicat conturate stăteau mărturie frumuseții ei trecute. Ședea dreaptă într-un jilț... Mâinile subțiri îi zăceau în poală, imobilitatea ei facială avea ceva monahal.”
“I should’ve just made something up and gotten the favor over with.” “You probably should have. But you didn’t, so . . . I win!” He shook his hair, flashing his most adorably confident smile, “And I gotta say, I kinda get why you hesitated with this. It’s a big decision. I mean, on the one hand, I could go for the obvious and make you share whatever secret you keep almost telling me.” Sophie’s mouth turned to sandpaper. “So that still freaks you out, huh? That might be proof that it needs to happen.” His eyes locked onto hers, refusing to let her look away. And when she swallowed, it was so loud, she was sure the entire world heard it. “Or,” he said. “We could skip the talking.” “And do what?” she asked, hating her voice for cracking. “Any ideas?” He was so close now, she could feel his breath warming her cheeks. He leaned a tiny bit closer and someone cleared his throat—very loudly.”
“But, unlike us, Ozzy had a restraint, a limit, a conscience, a brake. And that restraint came in the form of a homely, rotund little British woman whose very name sets lips trembling and knees knocking: Sharon Osbourne, a shitkicker and disciplinarian like no other we had ever met, a woman whose presence could in an instant send us reeling back to our childhood fear of authority.”
“All right. But take my advice, Mr. Hel. Don’t let this chance get away. Opportunity doesn’t knock twice, you know.”
“Penetrating observation. Did you make up the epigram?”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Very well. And ask the guard to knock on my cell door twice. I wouldn’t want to confuse him with opportunity.”
“Please do not—” Before he could argue with her any more to stay or persuade her he’d fix the situation, she’d picked up her bag and stalked out the door. He mumbled, “Leave me.”
Lex was gone.”
“That’s what happens when you study men: you find mare’s nests. I happen to believe that you can’t study men; you can only get to know them, which is quite a different thing. Because you study them, you want to make the lower orders govern the country and listen to classical music, which is balderdash. You also want to take away from them everything which makes life worth living and not only from them but from everyone except a parcel of prigs and professors.”
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