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‘but what about me? ... And that horrid good-nature of his which people love and praise so, how I hate it!’
Each thought that his own way of living was real life, and that the life of his friend was—illusion.
all this and much more that happened in this mystic world he did not understand; but he knew that everything done there was beautiful and he was in love with the very mystery of it all.
he seemed to himself so very earthly and insignificant a creature, that the possibility of his being considered worthy of her by others or by herself was to him unimaginable.
tolstoy's most humble characters always consider themselves the worst person in the world. (e.g when kitty said: ''It is as if all that was good in me had hidden itself, only what is horrid remains.'')
how to stop feeling this way, though?
‘Yes, there is certainly something objectionable and repellent about me,’
‘Is he not right that everything on earth is evil and horrid?
What can a man write about justice, who does not understand it?’
Anna read and understood, but it was unpleasant to read, that is to say, to follow the reflection of other people’s lives. She was too eager to live herself.
In his Petersburg world people were divided into two quite opposite sorts. One—the inferior sort: the paltry, stupid, and, above all, ridiculous people who believe that a husband should live with the one wife to whom he is married, that a maiden should be pure, a woman modest, and a man, manly, self-controlled and firm; that one should bring up one’s children to earn their living, should pay one’s debts, and other nonsense of that kind. These were the old-fashioned and ridiculous people. But there was another sort of people: the real people to which all his set belonged, who had above all to
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‘But what horrid thoughts can you have?’ asked Dolly smiling. ‘The very nastiest and coarsest, I can’t tell you. It is not grief, not dullness, but much worse. It is as if all that was good in me had hidden itself, and only what is horrid remains. How am I to tell you?’—she
Oh to have a courage to open up like this
I believe that to understand love one must first make a mistake and then correct it,’
‘I think ... if it is true that there are as many minds as there are heads, then there are as many kinds of love as there are hearts.’
‘The question of her feelings, of what has taken place or may take place in her soul, is not my business; it is the business of her conscience and belongs to religion,’
The shame she felt at her spiritual nakedness communicated itself to him.
‘Perhaps it is because I am glad of what I get, and don’t grieve about what I haven’t,’
What is it in her? What gives her this power to disregard everything and to be so quietly independent?
In Varenka she saw that it was only necessary to forget oneself and to love others in order to be at peace, happy, and lovely.
Constantine Levin did not like talking or hearing about the beauty of nature. Words seemed to detract from the beauty of what he was looking at.
‘Darya Alexandrovna,’ said he, ‘in that way one may choose a dress, or ... purchases ... anything ... but not love.
‘Of course one must think of one’s soul before everything else,’
‘How can I remain here alone, without her?’ he thought horror-struck,
‘Don’t go,’ he said and sat down at the table.
in marriage the chief thing is—love, and that when there is love there will always be happiness, because happiness lies always within oneself.
he feared that words might spoil the loftiness of his feelings,
‘How well I knew it would happen! I never dared hope, yet in my soul I was always certain,’ said he. ‘I believe it was predestined.’
But the fact is, art won’t stand discussion and argument.
At every step he took he felt as a man would feel who, after admiring the smooth happy motion of a little boat upon the water, had himself got into the boat. He found that besides sitting quietly without rocking he had to keep a lookout, not for a moment forget where he was going, or that there was water under his feet, and that he had to row, although it hurt his unaccustomed hands; in short, that it only looked easy, but to do it, though very delightful, was very difficult.
As a bachelor seeing the married life of others—their petty cares, their disputes, their jealousies—he used mentally to smile contemptuously. In his future married life he was sure he would have nothing of this kind, and even the external forms of his married life would be quite unlike other people’s. And now, behold! his life with his wife had not shaped itself differently, but was all made up of those petty trifles which he had formerly so despised, but which now, against his will, assumed an unusual and incontestable importance.
in spite of death, he felt the necessity of living and loving.
‘With a wife one has trouble, but with one who is not a wife it’s worse,’
‘I suppose you think you discovered something new? It was just the same—it was decided by the eyes, by smiles ...’
he is so used to living a purely spiritual life that he cannot reconcile himself to realities, and, after all, Varenka is a reality!’
so extraordinary did it seem, appeared to him on the one hand such an immense and therefore impossible happiness, and on the other such a mysterious event, that this pretended knowledge of what was going to happen and consequent preparations as for something ordinary, something produced by human beings, seemed to him an indignity and a degradation.
‘And what is it all for? What will come of it all? I myself, without having a moment’s peace, now pregnant, now nursing, always cross and grumbling, tormenting myself and others, repulsive to my husband—I shall live my life, and produce unfortunate, badly brought-up and beggared children.
don’t want to prove anything: simply I wish to live, not hurting anyone but myself.
Those painful maternal worries, which she had so hated on her journey, now after a day spent without them appeared in quite a different light and drew her back to them.
‘I love those two beings only, and the one excludes the other! I cannot unite them, yet that is the one thing I desire. And if I can’t have that, nothing matters—nothing, nothing! It will end somehow, therefore I can’t—I don’t like speaking
Recollections of home and of her children rose in her imagination with a new and peculiar charm. That world of her own now seemed so precious and dear
‘Unburdening our souls!’
Pestsov argued that art was all one, and that it can only reach its highest manifestations by uniting all the different kinds of art.
The horse was not yet ready, but feeling particularly energetic, physically strong and alert to meet what lay before him, so as not to lose a moment he did not wait for it but started off on foot, telling Kuzma to catch him up.
‘But I am not a negro!
Niahaagsahsshahsha
When Levin thought about what he was and why he lived, he could find no answer and was driven to despair; but when he left off asking himself those questions, he seemed to know what he was and why he lived, for he acted and lived unfalteringly and definitely—recently
‘To live not for one’s needs but for God!
that is, we must not live for what we understand and what attracts us, what we wish for, but must live for something incomprehensible, for God whom nobody can understand or define.
‘If goodness has a cause, it is no longer goodness; if it has a consequence—a reward, it is also not goodness. Therefore goodness is beyond the chain of cause and effect.
But the law of loving others could not be discovered by reason, because it is unreasonable.’
what I know, I know not by my reason but because it has been given to me, revealed to me, and I know it in my heart by faith in the chief thing which the Church proclaims.
‘Don’t I know that that is infinite space, and not a rounded vault? But however I may screw my eyes and strain my sight, I cannot help seeing it round and limited, and despite my knowledge of it as limitless space I am indubitably right when I see a firm blue vault, and more right than when I strain to see beyond it.’
‘Can this really be faith?’
