Book: A hero of our time. Page 1

Women should wish all men they also knew, as I am, because I love them a hundred times more since then, as they are not afraid and upon them minor weaknesses.

There are several points, for the reason already says nothing, and I say more: language, eyes, and behind them the heart, if it exists.

What is happiness? Intense pride.

Where is sung, there schastlivits.

Everyone has its own way.

Melancholy in society is ridiculous, and too much fun indecent.

Often on the face of the man who was supposed to die in a few hours, there's some imprint of inevitable fate, so the usual eye is difficult to make a mistake.

I am like a sailor born and raised on the deck of the brig predatory; his soul got used to storms and battles, and washed up on shore, he feels bored and languishing, no matter how Mani of his shady grove, no matter how Saint he peaceful sun; he goes a whole day on the sand, listening to the monotonous murmur of the rolling waves, and gazes into the misty distance will not be shown there on the pale line dividing the blue deep from the gray clouds, a welcome sail, at first like the wing of a sea gull, but little by little separating from the foam boulders and smooth running approaching the deserted Marina...

He had so often endeavoured to convince others that he is a being created not for this world and doomed to certain mysterious sufferings, that he almost was confident.

- Do I look like a killer?..
- You're worse than...

Don't tell anyone about your problems: friends will grieve, but your enemies cheer.

She did well, what died, what would become of her if Grigori Aleksandrovich had abandoned her?..

The expectation of a violent death isn't a real disease?

Like a stone thrown into a smooth source, I disturbed their peace, and like a stone, barely he did not go to the bottom!