Character: Pechorin, Grigory. Page 4

Thinking about the near and possible death, I think of one yourself: other do not and this. Friends, that tomorrow I will be forgotten or, worse, erect to my account God knows what fiction; women who are embracing another, will laugh at me, so as not to excite in him the jealousy of the dead, - God bless them! Of life's storm I carried only a few ideas - and no feelings. I long since don't live with your heart and head. I weighed, dismantled their own passions and actions with severe curiosity, but without.

Some think me better than I actually... Some will say: he was a good fellow, the other - a bastard. Both will be false. Then is it worth the trouble to live? and all live - out of curiosity, expecting something new... Funny and annoying!

My love never brought happiness, because I did not sacrifice for those she loved: I was loved for myself, for my own pleasure: I was only satisfied a strange need of the heart, greedily absorbing their emotions, their joy and suffering and could never get enough.

To die so die! the loss to the world small; and I myself quite so boring. I like a man yawning at a ball, which is not going to bed just because it still has no coach. But the carriage is ready... bye!..

Me the word to marry has some kind of magical power: how I passionately I love a woman, if she give me only feel like I have to marry her, - sorry love! my heart turned to stone, and nothing will warm up again. I'm ready for all the victims, except for this; twenty times his life, even honor to put on the card... but my freedom will not sell.

Since then, as poets write and women read them (for which they deepest gratitude), they are many times called angels that they are, in fact, in innocence, believed this compliment, forgetting that those same poets for the money called Nero a demigod.

There is nothing paradoxical female mind; women are hard to convince of anything, they need to bring up that they convinced themselves; the order of evidence that they are destroying their prejudices, very original; to learn their dialectic it is necessary to overturn in his mind all the school rules of logic.
For example, an ordinary method:
This man loves me, but I'm married: therefore should not love him.
Method female:
I don't have to love, because I am married; but he loves me, therefore...

I love enemies, though not Christian. They amuse me, excite me blood. To be always on the alert to catch every glance, the meaning of each word, to guess intentions, to destroy conspiracies, to pretend to be deceived and suddenly with one push to overturn all enormous and daunting edifice of tricks and ideas, that's what I call life.

Was once people wise, I think that celestial participate in our negligible disputes for a piece of land or any fictional right!.. Why? these lamps, lighted, in their opinion, only to illuminate their battles and celebrations, burning with the same Shine, and their passions and hopes have long faded along with them as the light lit on the edge of the forest heedless wanderer! But what will power gave them confidence that the whole sky with their countless inhabitants are watching with participation, although dumb, but unchanged!.. And we, their miserable descendants, roaming the earth without convictions or pride, without pleasure or fear, except for that involuntary fear squeezes my heart at the thought of the inevitable end, we are no longer able to the great sacrifices either for the good of mankind, nor even for his own happiness, because we know its impossibility, and pass indifferently from doubt to doubt, as our ancestors rushed from one delusion to another, without having as they do, nor hope, nor even that uncertain, although a true pleasure, which meets the soul in any fight with people or fate...

Almost all passion starts, and we are often very deceiving, thinking that the woman loves us for our physical or moral dignity; of course, they prepared her heart to receiving the Holy fire, and still the first touch that decides the matter.

Many all epitaphs seem ridiculous, but I do, especially when you think about what lies beneath them.

Such has been my fate since childhood. All read on my face a sign of bad feelings, which were not; but they assumed - and they were born. I was modest -- I was accused of slyness: I became secretive. I deeply felt the good and evil; I will not be caressed, all offended: I was vindictive; I was gloomy - other children merry and talkative; I felt above them, I put below. I became envious. I was ready to love the whole world, - to me no one understood and I learned to hate. My colourless youth leaked in fight against itself and light; my best feelings, fearing ridicule, I buried in my heart: they died there. I was telling the truth - I was not believed: I began to deceive; to know well the light and the springs of society, I became skilled in the science of life and seen others to be happy using the gift of all the advantages which I so tirelessly sought. And then in my chest born of despair - not the despair that treat the barrel of a gun, but a cold, impotent despair, covered with courtesy and good-natured smile. I became a moral cripple; one half of my soul did not exist, it dried up, evaporated, died, I cut it off and threw it, then another moved and lived here for everybody, and nobody noticed because nobody knew about the existence of the lost of half of it.

The love that we read in the eyes, to no woman is not binding, then as the words...

Passion is nothing like the idea at first its development: they are the identity of the youth of the heart, and fool the one who thinks your whole life to worry: many a calm river begins noisy waterfalls, but none of them jumps and does not foam to the sea. But this calm is often the sign of a great, although hidden power; the fulness and depth of feelings and thoughts does not allow a mad impulses; the soul, suffering and enjoying, gives in all severe report and make sure that it should; she knows that without thunder-storms constant heat of the sun it will dry up; she is overcome with his own life, cherishes and punishes himself as a beloved child. Only in this higher state of self-knowledge man can appreciate the justice of God.