“Nezhdanov’s heart began to beat violently and he lowered his eyes involuntarily. This girl, who had fallen in love with a homeless wretch like him, who trusted him, who was ready to follow him, to go with him towards one and the same goal — this wonderful girl — Marianna — at that moment was, for Nezhdanov, the embodiment of everything good and just on earth; the embodiment of that love, that of a family, sister or wife, which he had not experienced; the embodiment of homeland, happiness, struggle and freedom.” ― Ivan Turgenev, Virgin Soil
“As his hands fell upon the keyboard, it was still possible to believe a beautiful harmony had been formed at random, in spite of him. But a second later the music came surging out, the power of it sweeping away all doubts, voices, sounds, wiping away the fixed grins and exchanged glances, pushing back the walls, dispersing the light of the reception room out into the nocturnal immensity of the sky beyond the windows.
He did not feel as if he were playing. He was advancing through a night, breathing in its delicate transparency, made up as it was of an infinite number of facets of ice, of leaves, of wind. He no longer felt any pain. No fear about what would happen. No anguish or remorse. The night through which he was advancing expressed this pain, this fear, and the irremediable shattering of the past, but this had all become music and now only existed through its beauty.” ― Andreï Makine, Music of a Life
Acquainted with the Night By Robert Frost I have been one acquainted with the night. I have walked out in rain—and back in rain. I have outwalked the furthest city light.
I have looked down the saddest city lane. I have passed by the watchman on his beat And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.
I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet When far away an interrupted cry Came over houses from another street,
But not to call me back or say good-bye; And further still at an unearthly height, One luminary clock against the sky
Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right. I have been one acquainted with the night.
Be soft. Do not let the world make you hard. Do not let pain make you hate. Do not let the bitterness steal your sweetness. Take pride that even though the rest of the world may disagree, you still believe it to be a beautiful place.” — Kurt Vonnegut
“Books give a soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination, and life to everything.” – Plato
“Beauty is truth, truth beauty,’ – that is all / Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know” – John Keats
‘As you wish’…
The days are long but the years are short
@Nicole nice
Thanks, I have no idea who wrote it but it’s one of my favorites.
Life is really simple but we insist on making it complicated. ~Confusius
It is folly to expect men to do all that they should reasonably be expected to do.
“Nezhdanov’s heart began to beat violently and he lowered his eyes involuntarily. This girl, who had fallen in love with a homeless wretch like him, who trusted him, who was ready to follow him, to go with him towards one and the same goal — this wonderful girl — Marianna — at that moment was, for Nezhdanov, the embodiment of everything good and just on earth; the embodiment of that love, that of a family, sister or wife, which he had not experienced; the embodiment of homeland, happiness, struggle and freedom.”
― Ivan Turgenev, Virgin Soil
“As his hands fell upon the keyboard, it was still possible to believe a beautiful harmony had been formed at random, in spite of him. But a second later the music came surging out, the power of it sweeping away all doubts, voices, sounds, wiping away the fixed grins and exchanged glances, pushing back the walls, dispersing the light of the reception room out into the nocturnal immensity of the sky beyond the windows.
He did not feel as if he were playing. He was advancing through a night, breathing in its delicate transparency, made up as it was of an infinite number of facets of ice, of leaves, of wind. He no longer felt any pain. No fear about what would happen. No anguish or remorse. The night through which he was advancing expressed this pain, this fear, and the irremediable shattering of the past, but this had all become music and now only existed through its beauty.”
― Andreï Makine, Music of a Life
Acquainted with the Night
By Robert Frost
I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain—and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.
I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.
I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,
But not to call me back or say good-bye;
And further still at an unearthly height,
One luminary clock against the sky
Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.
“Mrs. Dalloway said she would buy the flowers herself.”
Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn.
Gone With the Wind.
“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.”
Be the change you want to see in the world – MK Gandhi
‘I absolutely loved Silent Lies…kept me hooked from the very start
Be soft. Do not let the world make you hard. Do not let pain make you hate. Do not let the bitterness steal your sweetness. Take pride that even though the rest of the world may disagree, you still believe it to be a beautiful place.”
— Kurt Vonnegut
Enjoying all. More and more
@حسين great
@Rubina thnx 🙂
Well aren’t you all that and a bag of chips!
If they can brag without lying, let them brag!
God made the world round so we could not see too far down the road…
Isak Dinesen ~ Out of Africa
@Michele I read the book nice sharing
More more . Enjoying all words and lines.
Next we will share love quotes
“Who you are speaks so loudly I can’t hear what you are saying”
Something is rotten in the state of Denmark
“Ah, the patter of little feet around the house. There’s nothing like having a midget for a butler.” — W. C. Fields
“Marriage is a wonderful institution, but who wants to live in an institution?” — Groucho Marx
Words are the voice of the Heart- Confucius