Ivan Turgenev

“ I answer you like an echo; where?"
"You're in a melancholy mood today, Evgeny."
"Really? The sun must have melted my brain and I ought not to have eaten so many raspberries either."
"In that case it wouldn't be a bad plan to doze a bit," remarked Arkady.
"Certainly. Only don't look at me; everyone has a stupid face when he's asleep."
"But isn't it all the same to you what people think of you?"
"I don't quite know how to answer you. A real man ought not to worry about such things; a real man is not meant to be thought about, but is someone who must be either obeyed or hated." ”

“ It's all the same thing. People will never penetrate deeper than that. Not everyone would tell you so, and another time I shouldn't tell you so myself."
"What, and is honesty also--a sensation?"
"I should think so."
"Evgeny . . . !" began Arkady in a dejected tone.
"Well? What? That's not to your taste?" broke in Bazarov. "No, brother. If you've made up your mind to mow down everything--don't spare your own legs . . . ! But we've philosophized enough. 'Nature heaps up the silence of sleep,' said Pushkin."
"He never said anything of the kind," retorted Arkady. ”

“ But wouldn't you like to come over here in the shade and breathe the morning freshness before having tea?"
Arkady went out to him.
"Welcome once more!" said Vassily Ivanovich, raising his hand in a military salute to the greasy skullcap which covered his head. "You, I know, are accustomed to luxury and pleasures, but even the great ones of this world do not disdain to spend a brief time under a cottage roof." ”

“ Vassily Ivanovich listened and listened, blew his nose, rolled his handkerchief up into a ball with both hands, cleared his throat, ruffled up his hair--and at length could contain himself no longer; he bent down to Arkady and kissed him on the shoulder. "You have made me perfectly happy," he said, without ceasing to smile. "I ought to tell you, I . . . idolize my son; I won't even speak of my old wife--naturally, a mother--but I dare not show my feelings in front of him, because he disapproves of that. He is opposed to every demonstration of emotion ”

“ Here am I, an old man of sixty-two, and even I have none." (Vassily Ivanovich dared not confess that he had himself wanted the thanksgiving service--he was no less devout than his wife.) "And Father Alexei very much wanted to make your acquaintance. You will like him, you'll see. He doesn't mind playing cards even, and he sometimes--but this is between ourselves--goes so far as to smoke a pipe." ”

“ The significant may be deceptive but sweet, though it's even quite possible to put up with the insignificant . . . But petty squabbles, petty squabbles . . . that's a misery."
"Petty squabbles don't exist for the man who refuses to recognize them as such." ”

“ The tiny narrow space I occupy is so minutely small in comparison with the rest of space where I am not and which has nothing to do with me; and the portion of time in which it is my lot to live is so insignificant beside the eternity where I have not been and will not be . ”

“ She has just managed to get some flowers from a neighbor; she wanted to decorate your room." (Vassily Ivanovich did not even mention that every morning the moment it was light he consulted with Timofeich, and standing with his bare feet in slippers, pulling out with trembling fingers one crumpled ruble note after another, entrusted him with various purchases, particularly of good things to eat, and of red wine, which, as far as he could observe, the young men liked extremely.) "Liberty--is the main thing--that is my principle . . . one has no right to interfere. ”

“ You're timid, you haven't much self-reliance."
"And you," interrupted Arkady, "do you rely on yourself? Have you a high opinion of yourself?"
Bazarov paused. "When I meet a man who can hold his own beside me," he said with slow deliberation, "then I'll change my opinion of myself. Hatred! You said, for instance, today as we passed the cottage of our bailiff Philip--the one that's so neat and clean--well, you said, Russia will achieve perfection when the poorest peasant has a house like that, and every one of us ought to help to bring it about . ”