Antonina Quotes

“Even now, talking about those days, tears well up in my eyes, my indefatigable heart pounds rebelliously and still suffers, and my former, stormy passion bursts into my soul with these remembrances! Tedious, profound, burning recollections oppress me. I don’t love him any longer: love for my first friend died and grew cold long since, but even now, when I start talking about him, it’s as if I begin to love him all over again! The human heart feels deeply - its innermost depths are immeasurable, dark, and strange; and that which is lost in it often comes to the surface unexpectedly and fills the whole being with long-lost, lifeless feeling.”
― Evgeniya Tur, Antonina

“I stopped and straightened up. I both pitied and despised him at that moment. Freeing my dress from his convulsive grasp, I said distinctly and resolutely: “I wish you happiness – and, I forgive you.” Without hesitating another moment, I left the room. Vasily N** sat me in his carriage and asked where to take me. “Wherever you like,” I replied. “It’s all the same.”
― Evgeniya Tur, Antonina

“I would have done it no matter what, but I thought you’d written in the first moment of rage after they confiscated my letters, and you hadn’t quite decided what to do.” “When I decide something, my decision is always irrevocable,” I said.”
― Evgeniya Tur, Antonina

“I glanced at him coldly. I understood vaguely that he’d greeted me not as he should have, and that now I, the woman, instead of crying or protesting, was searching for a way out, while he, the man, was unable to find one and was asking why other people acted the way they did, and, like a child, blaming them for their hard-heartedness. But my coldness soon vanished at the sight of his tears, despair, timid caresses, and an embarrassment I could not understand”
― Evgeniya Tur, Antonina

“Just look at her,” said Milkot, turning to my stepmother and pointing at me. “Look! Instead of repentance, only indignation and impudence! No tears, not a word about forgiveness.” “Never!” I cried. “Weep? Beg forgiveness? Why? What for? Because you’ve tormented me since my childhood?”
― Evgeniya Tur, Antonina

“The young heart has to suffer many blows before it ceases to trust; the young mind must endure many betrayals before it can grasp that such things are possible; the very being must withstand many powerful shocks before it splits into two parts, one preserving the love while the other debates whether the object of its love is really worth loving. During the first stage of life, love, devotion, and self-sacrifice constitute a single unbreakable whole, and we are given over entirely to the person we love. Reason remains silent; there’s not even a seed of analysis of oneself or others. The festering sore of analysis that destroys every feeling at its source has yet to come into existence; it appears unexpectedly, after the first storm, shattering young life, and, manifesting itself in us, it breaks into our memory of the past and examines every last petty detail of it. That’s the first thing. Later, having stolen into our soul, this destructive impulse settles down there, developing gradually and growing to monstrous proportions. It mercilessly destroys forever the life of the heart by never admitting into it any vital sensations. Analysis, like the anatomist’s knife, cuts through and destroys vital energy everywhere, leaving behind a corpse where only a moment before blood was flowing, life was throbbing, and a heart was beating. At that time I still didn’t know that kind of analysis, that terrible, destructive malady; its absence caused in part the blow that severed the bond between me and Michel. Now it remains for me to tell you all about it.”
― Evgeniya Tur, Antonina

“This was not real life – it was agonizing torment. He didn’t have the strength of will to reject me, much less to find a way out of our painful predicament. His tenderness toward me remained constant; at our meetings he was just as affectionate and loving, but I realized how impotent and exhausted he was, even though he assured me of the opposite and often asserted, as if to comfort himself and me, “It can’t get any worse!” We both were aware of how much fate and other people threatened us: he had given in to them, and I could resist no further. We were both weary, he more than I. He didn’t talk about what was happening at home; but from his gloomy look, I could conclude that he was being subjected to persecution or entreaties. Subsequently, I learned that both were applied and tormented him equally. I didn’t want to wrest a confession from him. My own situation became more painful and difficult by the day; I felt, even though I didn’t admit it to myself, that the support I got from his presence was growing noticeably weaker every day and gradually disappearing. Once I even proposed that we end our relationship and give in completely to the people who were trying to keep us apart. This suggestion, made so abruptly and firmly, distressed him and aroused him from the moral lethargy into which he had sunk. All of a sudden he rebelled heatedly, reproached me for my weakness and loss of hope, reminded me of all our promises and oaths, and mercilessly accused me of not loving him any more. This fiery burst of passion totally disarmed me; I was ashamed of my lack of faith, reproached only myself, begged him to forgive me, and swore never to doubt him again.”
― Evgeniya Tur, Antonina

“I don’t know why, whether by calculation or simply by chance, but she suddenly burst into tears and threw her arms around him. Her pleas disarmed him entirely – he didn’t know how to oppose them and was unable to. He was defenseless and weak when confronted by them. Then she felt faint: her illness was the final blow, and put an end once and for all to his will and demolished his resolve.”
― Evgeniya Tur, Antonina

“So that was the end of my staunch resolve to become his wife. There it is, the first evidence that we’re governed by the play of fate, and willpower is no more than a childish dream that charmingly seduces the inexperienced. If only his aunt’s letter had come later! When, after receiving it, I kissed my father’s portrait with such insane passion, I already knew that I was all alone in the world left only with his memory, and that I had lost my one true friend forever, my dearest beloved. It was very painful, but I didn’t hesitate for a moment. Up to the present no one can make me act in a way different from what the innermost feeling I recognize as genuine demands; it alone has never deceived me! I sacrificed myself completely, but my sacrifice proved to be superfluous.”
― Evgeniya Tur, Antonina

“Antonina Mikhailovna,” said Dmitry, “remember everything I told you yesterday and take pity on Michel. If you don’t agree to his proposal, he’ll have to engage in an open, overt struggle with his aunt. He will be faced with persecution. You know what it’s like from experience; you’ve borne it yourself. It’s not easy, is it?” “He’s a man,” I said. “He can’t be victimized like a woman.” “That’s true. But remember, your own heart has hardened against the people you live with, whereas he still loves his aunt and owes her everything. She raised him. His father will also side with her. Michel will suffer twice as much. But if he’s already married – then, in her opinion, it will be an irrevocable misfortune. Believe me, she’ll forgive him, if not immediately, then very soon; but, until it’s all settled, she’s sure to persecute both of you. If you don’t pity yourself, then at least take pity on him.” “Do you have the right,” asked Michel heatedly, “the right not to consent and to hesitate? Why? In your opinion have we not suffered enough? Are we suffering too little now? Haven’t we both earned the right to be happy? My God, who can be bothered by our happiness? Or do you love me less now? Remember what you told me two years ago; remember what you repeated in your letters. You assured me you’d be firm and resolute. Prove your love for me – the time has come.” I rushed to him and burst into tears. “Take me away from here,” I cried. “Do as you wish!”
― Evgeniya Tur, Antonina

“That means it’s all over,” I said with suppressed desperation. “Not at all,” he replied. “You must simply be firm. There’s still a way. In my opinion, there’s always a way if we’re not senseless enough to destroy ourselves. Listen to me carefully. Michel’s a splendid fellow, kind and noble, with the tender heart of a woman. But his character contains the terrible seed of all sorts of unhappiness: he’s weak-willed and compliant. I know his aunt. He’ll never have the resolve to tell you, and I’ve remained silent to this point, but now I’ll tell you everything, in order to save you both. His aunt is a withered, inflexible, resolute old woman: she’s always exerted great influence over him. He’s simply afraid of her and lacks the strength to oppose her: not now, of course, not at the very first moment of outrage and suffering, but afterward, à la longue. He’ll be terribly unhappy because he loves you passionately and sincerely, and yet, in spite of all that, he’ll submit to his aunt’s influence without fail. You must save him and yourself.” “But how?” I asked. “You surprise me. I always thought his aunt loved him inordinately.” “Yes, indeed she does; but there are quite a few people on earth who love in a very strange way, under certain conditions, more for themselves than for those they love. Don’t you know what prejudice is all about? Michel entered this struggle carelessly, without taking anything into consideration, under the influence of his first real attachment. But this struggle will be beyond his strength: he won’t withstand it if you don’t support him. If you leave him to his own devices or consign him to his aunt’s control, she’ll demolish both of you.” “You’re destroying me,” I said. “What can I do? I have no power when faced with this.” “Not at all. On the contrary, you’re stronger than anyone else. Michel loves you more than anyone in the world; he’s ready to do anything for you. Give him the will; don’t do anything to discourage him. On the contrary, give him strength.” “You’re not being clear. Explain yourself,” I said. “He wants to carry you off and marry you in secret.” “My God!” I said. “Is it really possible?” “Why not? It’s altogether possible. In three or four days everything will be ready. Nobody will grieve over you: nobody at home loves you. It’s the only way out. You must take it. Later, perhaps, even if you wanted to, it will be too late. Honestly, listen to me. We’ll come tomorrow to hear your answer.”
― Evgeniya Tur, Antonina

“From certain turns of phrase I understood that he’d spoken with his aunt and that we were left with some remote hope; my agitation was so strong that I couldn’t control myself, and in a moment my face was bathed in tears. Glafira Vasilevna, in spite of her simplicity and shortsightedness, seemed to understand that we loved each other; upon seeing my tears, she also began weeping and, without a word, without interrogations or rationalizations, embraced me silently and squeezed my hand. Her display of sympathy suddenly eased my soul – I sobbed and threw my arms around her neck. God forbid, my friends, God forbid that anyone should experience such hopeless grief oppressing the soul without someone’s tears of sympathy, someone’s hand squeezing yours, someone’s supportive look speaking directly to your heart. I experienced all this; in that moment the tears of a woman so different in upbringing, intelligence, and morality, a simple, uneducated, but good woman – suddenly infused warmth into my frozen heart, provided fresh energy to my character, and new strength to endure further, probably painful, torments. Yes, sympathy is a great thing, a sacred thing; may God bless thrice all those who provide it sincerely and warmly to a suffering being crushed by life and other people.”
― Evgeniya Tur, Antonina

“Do fate and life really bestow such misfortunes? Do people really have to join forces and separate so inexorably and ruthlessly two children, two vital young beings, attracted to one another by invincible sympathy and love? Upon returning to my room I sat down, exhausted, as if after a long day’s march; a terrible, oppressive feeling of loneliness took possession of my soul. At that moment I would have given half my life for one hour of another meeting. If I’d known what was awaiting me, I would, of course, without even thinking, have given my entire life for nothing and died willingly with my unlimited trust in him, in total satisfaction, in the full flowering of my first chaste feeling, still uncrushed, not yet humiliated in my own eyes, with an inviolably pure and unattainably lofty ideal in my soul. Yes, our love was pure and holy; to die then and there – would mean to die like Romeo and Juliet. I don’t know of a loftier, more beautiful, splendid death!”
― Evgeniya Tur, Antonina

“Never had anyone taken such good care of me; do you know what it’s like to experience the ardent, sincere attentions of one’s beloved for the first time, especially for someone who’s never known the tenderness of a mother, the love of sisters and brothers, the sympathy of friends? I could hardly answer his constant questions: I was so deeply moved!”
― Evgeniya Tur, Antonina

“His relations with me were amicable; although we knew that we loved each other, we never said a word about it. Taking such pleasure in the present, we didn’t think about the future at all. But this is the happiest feature of first love, and perhaps the source of the ecstasy, poetry, and mystery of its freshness. To live a wonderful life in the fleeting moment, to enjoy rapturously and carelessly the happiness of being together, desiring nothing, and sinking into reverie – what can be compared to a time like that? We were fortunate it happened to us so early: how miserable, pathetic, and insignificant is the person who has never experienced this miraculous dream even once in his life? Later, if we fall in love, we hasten to analyze, calculate, formulate, knowing from experience that most things do not last, and thus we ourselves destroy the nicest flowers on the tree of life and love. But at that time I was young and loved beyond all measure; all of a sudden the life of my soul blossomed magnificently. I didn’t notice anything around me and thought only of him.”
― Evgeniya Tur, Antonina

“Most likely I’d have come to love him later, if I hadn’t fallen in love with him at first, because, living among people as insensitive as the Velins, with the cruel and inexorable Milkot and my stern, unloving stepmother, the ideal image that had formed in my head was of a man endowed with tenderness, limitless kindness, and sincerity; all this could be found in Michel. There was a great deal of femininity in him, and I revered that trait – I didn’t regard it as a fault in a man, merely as the ultimate expression of kindness and sensitivity. Early on I understood that intelligence without straightforward, genuine goodness is both useless and harmful. Finding Michel so generously endowed in this respect, I loved him tenderly and was rapturously astonished by his gentle heart.”
― Evgeniya Tur, Antonina

“His voice awakened a revered memory; the color of his eyes and wavy hair revived a distant image; it seemed that in him my father was sending himself to me again.”
― Evgeniya Tur, Antonina

“Can’t you use simpler terms?” he objected. “Even now, in reply to my concern, you repay me with irony.” “That which man sows, so shall he reap,” I said coldly.”
― Evgeniya Tur, Antonina

“Farewell, Nina,” he said. “God be with you. Tomorrow, when you open your eyes, remember that a new life is about to begin for us – a peaceful one under the clear sky of my sweet native land. Yes, Ninochka, we’ll leave for Mainz and we’ll be very happy there!”
― Evgeniya Tur, Antonina

“I overheard these words as I was leaving the room – and from that time I ceased to value and understand people’s sense of fairness, their impartial judgment, and their opinions. Thus passed my childhood; such scenes were repeated very frequently, but they didn’t destroy my character – on the contrary, I developed inflexibility and was constantly racked by feelings of hatred, rage, and disgust mixed with fear. My father’s caresses gradually lost their power over me and ceased softening my disposition; it seemed that with each passing day he withdrew further from me.”
― Evgeniya Tur, Antonina

“Forgive me,” I said in a trembling voice, and a flood of tears drowned my words – they were bitter tears for a person of any age, tears of impotence and rage.”
― Evgeniya Tur, Antonina