A Gentleman in Moscow

by Amor Towles

and that if a man does not master his circumstances then he is bound to be mastered by them.

Having acknowledged that a man must master his circumstances or otherwise be mastered by them,

but weren’t the flower shops of Paris shuttered under the “reign” of Robespierre, and didn’t that city now abound in blossoms?

Long had he believed that a gentleman should turn to a mirror with a sense of distrust. For rather than being tools of self-discovery, mirrors tended to be tools of self-deceit.

“Does a banquet really need an asparagus server?” “Does an orchestra need a bassoon?”

But Fortune does favor the bold.

For the times do, in fact, change. They change relentlessly. Inevitably. Inventively.

But Fate would not have the reputation it has if it simply did what it seemed it would do.

While the splendors that elude us in youth are likely to receive our casual contempt in adolescence and our measured consideration in adulthood, they forever hold us in their thrall.

But when you exile a man into his own country, there is no beginning anew. For the exile at home—whether he be sent to Siberia or subject to the Minus Six—the love for his country will not become vague or shrouded by the mists of time.

And there, as the sun begins to rise, he is overcome with thoughts of an affirmation, a proclamation, a promise—a promise to shine everywhere and always to very depths of the last days—which, after all, is all that anyone has ever asked of love.

That sense of loss is exactly what we must anticipate, prepare for, and cherish to the last of our days; for it is only our heartbreak that finally refutes all that is ephemeral in love.

“Then you must trust in her. And even if she is single-minded to a fault, you must trust that life will find her in time. For eventually, it finds us all.”

But art is the most unnatural minion of the state. Not only is it created by fanciful people who tire of repetition even more quickly than they tire of being told what to do, it is also vexingly ambiguous.

but the tenure of friendships has never been governed by the passage of time. These two would have felt like old friends had they met just hours before.

“One must make ends meet,” confirmed Audrius matter-of-factly, “or meet one’s end.”

For what matters in life is not whether we receive a round of applause; what matters is whether we have the courage to venture forth despite the uncertainty of acclaim.”

For as it turns out, one can revisit the past quite pleasantly, as long as one does so expecting nearly every aspect of it to have changed.