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A Gentleman in Moscow

Book by Amor Towles · 26 quotes · A Gentleman In Moscow, Amor Towles, Friendship

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A Gentleman in Moscow Quotes

“Tis a funny thing, reflected the Count as he stood ready to abandon his suite. From the earliest age, we must learn to say goodbye to friends and family. We see our parents and siblings off at the station; we visit cousins, attend schools, join the regiment; we marry, or travel abroad. It is part of the human experience that we are constantly gripping a good fellow by the shoulders and wishing him well, taking comfort from the notion that we will hear word of him soon enough.”

“Presumably, the bells of the Church of the Ascension had been reclaimed by the Bolsheviks for the manufacture of artillery, thus returning them to the realm from whence they came. Though for all the Count knew, the cannons that had been salvaged from Napoleon's retreat to make the Ascension's bells had been forged by the French from the bells at La Rochelle; which in turn had been forged from British blunderbusses seized in the Thirty Years War. From bells to cannons and back again, from now until the end of time.”

“For that matter, what can a first impression tell us about anyone? Why, no more than a chord can tell us about Beethoven, or a brushstroke about Botticelli. By their very nature, human beings are so capricious, so complex, so delightfully contradictory, that they deserve not only our consideration, but our reconsideration - and our unwavering determination to withhold our opinion until we have engaged with them in every possible setting at every possible hour.”

“If one has been absent for decades from a place that one once held dear, the wise would generally counsel that one should never return there again. History abounds with sobering examples: After decades of wandering the seas and overcoming all manner of deadly hazards, Odysseus finally returned to Ithaca, only to leave it again a few years later. Robinson Crusoe, having made it back to England after years of isolation, shortly thereafter set sail for that very same island from which he had so fervently prayed for deliverance. Why after so many years of longing for home did these sojourners abandon it so shortly upon their return? It is hard to say. But perhaps for those returning after a long absence, the combination of heartfelt sentiments and the ruthless influence of time can only spawn disappointments. The landscape is not as beautiful as one remembered it. The local cider is not as sweet. Quaint buildings have been restored beyond recognition, while fine old traditions have lapsed to make way for mystifying new entertainments. And having imagined at one time that one resided at the very center of this little universe, one is barely recognized, if recognized at all. Thus do the wise counsel that one should steer far and wide of the old homestead. But no counsel, however well grounded in history, is suitable for all. Like bottles of wine, two men will differ radically from each other for being born a year apart or on neighboring hills. By way of example, as this traveler stood before the ruins of his old home, he was not overcome by shock, indignation, or despair. Rather, he exhibited the same smile, at once wistful and serene, that he had exhibited upon seeing the overgrown road. For as it turns out, one can revisit the past quite pleasantly, as long as one does so expecting nearly every aspect of it to have changed.”

“Dutifully, the Count put the spoon in his mouth. In an instant, there was the familiar sweetness of fresh honey—sunlit, golden, and gay. Given the time of year, the Count was expecting this first impression to be followed by a hint of lilacs from the Alexander Gardens or cherry blossoms from the Garden Ring. But as the elixir dissolved on his tongue, the Count became aware of something else entirely. Rather than the flowering trees of Central Moscow, the honey had a hint of a grassy riverbank . . . the trace of a summer breeze . . . a suggestion of a pergola . . . But most of all there was the unmistakable essence of a thousand apple trees in bloom. "Nizhny Novgorod", he said. And it was.”

“But the Count hadn’t the temperament for revenge; he hadn’t the imagination for epics; and he certainly hadn’t the fanciful ego to dram of empires restored. No. His model for mastering his circumstances would be a different sort of captive altogether: an Anglican washed ashore. Like Robinson Crusoe stranded on the Isle of Despair, the count would maintain his resolve by committing to the business of practicalities. Having dispensed with dreams of quick discovery, the world’s Crusoes seek shelter and a source of fresh water; they teach themselves to make fire from flint; they study their island’s topography, it’s climate, its flora and fauna, all the while keeping their eyes trained for sails on the horizon and footprints in the sand.”

“Si bien los esplendores que nos son esquivos cuando somos jóvenes suelen ser objeto de nuestro desprecio en la adolescencia y de nuestra comedida consideración en la edad adulta, en el fondo nos tienen siempre subyugados. Por eso, en los días posteriores a su primer encuentro, el conde escuchó las apasionadas exposiciones de los ideales de Mijaíl con el mismo asombro con que Mijaíl atendía a las descripciones de los salones de la ciudad del conde. Y antes de terminarse el año ya compartían unas habitaciones alquiladas encima del taller de un zapatero remendón en una bocacalle de Sredni Prospekt.”

“Cuando un hombre ha sido infravalorado por un amigo, tiene motivos para ofenderse, pues son precisamente nuestros amigos quienes deberían sobrevalorar nuestras capacidades. Deberían tener una opinión exagerada de nuestra fortaleza moral, nuestra sensibilidad estética y nuestro alcance intelectual. Es más, prácticamente deberían imaginarnos entrando por una ventana, para acudir en su ayuda, con las obras de Shakespeare en una mano y una pistola en la otra.”

“[w]hat he had failed to take into account was the impact (...) of seeing the Arc de Triomphe and the Louvre lit up at night for the very first time. True, Sophia had seen them the day before (...) but just as the Count had imagined, she had seen them through the window of a bus. It was a different thing altogether to see them at the onset of summer having received an ovation, changed one's appearance, and escaped into the night. For while in the classical tradition there was no muse of architecture, I think we can agree that under the right circumstances the appearance of a building can impress itself upon one's memory, affect one's sentiments, and even change one's life. Just so, risking minutes that she did not have to spare, Sophia came to a stop at the Place de la Concorde and turned slowly in place, as if in a moment of recognition.”

“Ignatov: "...History has shown charm to be the final ambition of the leisure class. What I do find surprising is that the author of the poem in question could have become a man so obviously without purpose. " Rostov: "I have lived under the impression that a man's purpose is known only to God." Ignatov: "Indeed. How convenient that must have been for you.”

“Thus did the typewriters clack through the night, until that historic document had been crafted which guaranteed for all Russians freedom of conscience (Article 13), freedom of expression (Article 14), freedom of assembly (Article 15), and freedom to have any of these rights revoked should they be “utilized to the detriment of the socialist revolution (Article 23)!”