Laurus

by Eugene Vodolazkin

Life’s parts sometimes have little in common, so little that it might appear various people lived them.

have often regretted the things I have said, but I have never regretted my silence.

It is worth adding, however, that he himself did not always understand what time ought to be considered the present.

Christofer did not like heretics.

His grandfather observed the icon’s mysterious current flow into Arseny’s hands. One time he made the following note: the child has a special awareness. His future presents itself to me as outstanding but I have difficulty foreseeing it.

There was something in Arseny that eased lives that were anything but simple. And people were grateful to him.

Christofer ruffled the scruff of the wolf, who

This reminds us that human children come to life only at christening—if death occurs before that day, it lasts for all eternity, there is no heaven.

No no no that’s not it.

And thus, O Arseny, those who take on suffering for Christ are reborn in all their glory for the Kingdom of Heaven.

Arseny felt joy because they would also build a fire in the stove and enjoy a special autumn coziness when they came home.

God’s boundless wisdom is reflected in the small human body (said Christofer) like the sun in a drop of water.

No the fall, not the flood!

Each of us repeats Adam’s journey and acknowledges, with the loss of innocence, that he is mortal. Weep and pray, O Arseny. And do not fear death, for death is not just the bitterness of parting. It is also the joy of liberation.

At times it is not crucial how a word is spoken and by whom. All that is important is that it has been spoken. Or, at the very least, thought.

For Christofer, the written word seemed to regulate the world.

No matter what happened later, once it had been written, the word had already occurred.

At times, Arseny’s grandfather seemed like a hen carrying golden eggs that needed only be gathered in good time.

Basically, during the Middle Ages people read predominantly out loud, at the very least simply moving their lips.

It is just that memory should not be too long. That, you know, is not for the best. After all, some things should be forgotten.

O Arseny, his window frames are still up, but people no longer remember Yeleazar? One

the Lord remembers with love and does not let any small detail slip his memory, thus He does not need his name.

It was clear to the old man that it was the living who should be feared.

It was his way of warning us that everyone remains alone with God at the final moment.

everything was remaining in its proper place.

Arseny’s hands lost their materiality when they touched a patient’s body; it was as if they flowed. There was something in them that was cool, like fresh water from a spring.

Christofer’s death had turned Arseny’s life into something empty.

Arseny knew the patients still saw Christofer in him, making each visit like a continuation his grandfather’s life. In closing the resulting emptiness, Arseny himself began to feel a little as if he were Christofer, and that identity was tacitly confirmed by the visitors.

In these forgotten times hair was more exciting than now because it was usually covered. Hair was almost an intimate detail.

Ustina was not separate from his love for her. Ustina was love and love was Ustina. He carried it as if it were a candle in a dark forest.

The circle was closing: they were becoming everything for one another. The perfection of that circle made anyone else’s presence impossible.

Arseny grasped that only Ustina’s pregnancy could express his immeasurable love, that it was he growing throughout Ustina. He felt happiness that he now existed, constantly, within Ustina. He was an integral part of her.

yellowed plastic bottles.

If you are not thinking about the finiteness of your strength, you will not tire, either. Know, O Arseny, that only he who does not fear drowning is capable of walking on water.

A crease in his shirt stuck out from behind his back as if it were an angel’s wing.

Arseny felt ever more strongly about his long-time supposition that, when all is said and done, medicines are of secondary significance. The primary role belongs to the physician and his doctoring power.

a miracle can be the result of effort multiplied by faith.

He shares the patient’s pain with him and, to some degree, his death, too.

Arseny’s heart fills with grief because he understands that the world does not remain the same after a patient passes away.

Incurable patients see in him a person capable of understanding the depth of suffering, for in his exploration of pain he gets to the very bottom of things.

he saw confirmation of the nonrandomness of everything that took place on earth. People encounter one another (thought Ambrogio), bumping into one another like atoms. They do not have their own trajectories and so their actions are random. But when taken together, those random events (so thought Ambrogio) were their own form of consistency, which could be predictable in certain parts. Only He Who created everything knows this in full.

Perhaps on the boundary of the world, replied Ambrogio, I will learn something about the boundary of time.

Why am I (thought Stroev) yearning in advance, predestining events, and moving ahead of time? And how is it that I always know in advance about my yearning? What is it inside me that gives rise to this vexing feeling?

You’re talking about passion that really is a form of insanity. But I’m talking about love, which is sensible and, if you like, predestined. Because when you miss someone, we’re talking about lacking a piece of you, yourself. And you’re looking to be reunited with that piece.

That is why history has no goal, just as humanity has none. Only an individual person has a goal. And even then, not always.

A city of saints, whispered Ambrogio, following the play of the shadow. They present us the illusion of life. No, objected Arseny, also in a whisper. They disprove the illusion of death.

I am going to tell you something strange. It seems ever more to me that there is no time. Everything on earth exists outside of time, otherwise how could I know about the future that has not occurred? I think time is given to us by the grace of God so we will not get mixed up, because a person’s consciousness cannot take in all events at once. We are locked up in time because of our weakness.

what is important is that the end of the world for each individual person will come a few decades after birth—each gets however much time is allotted. (Ambrogio leaned toward the horse’s neck and exhaled into his mane.) The overall end of the world worries me, as you know, but I do not dread it. Meaning I dread it no more than my own death.

only the material world needs time.

I am telling you: the very existence of time is open to question. Maybe there simply is no after.

Life consists of partings, said Arseny. But you can rejoice more fully in companionship when you remember that.