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White Nights Quotes

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White Nights Quotes

“Do you know that you have reconciled me to myself for a long time to come now? Do you know that I shall no longer think so ill of myself as I am sometimes apt to do? Do you know that I may not despair any longer that I have committed a crime and a sin in my life, for a life like mine is a crime and a sin? And pray do not think I have exaggerated anything to you, for heaven’s sake do not think that, Nastenka, because at times I am possessed by melancholy, such utter melancholy . . . . Because when these spells come over me, I begin to think that I am incapable of ever starting to live a new, a real life, because it seems to me that I have already lost all touch, all sense of the real and the actual, because I had been selling my soul, because my nights of fantasy are now followed by moments of soberness, and they are frightening! And meanwhile, you can hear life clamouring and eddying about you in a human whirlpool, you can hear, you can see that their world has not been made to order, that it will not be shattered like a dream or a vision, that their life is ever youthful, ever rejuvenescent, and that every hour in it differs from the last, whereas timorous fancy is bleak and monotonous to the point of boredom, a slave to every shadow and notion, a slave to the first cloud that blots out the sun and wrings with distress the heart of every true man.”

LonelinessSorrowDostoyevskyWhite Nights
Author:Fyodor Dostoyevsky, White Nights
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“Do you know that, maybe, I shall leave off grieving over the crime and sin of my life? for such a life is a crime and a sin. And do not imagine that I have been exaggerating anything—for goodness’ sake don't think that, Nastenka: for at times such misery comes over me, such misery.... Because it begins to seem to me at such times that I am incapable of beginning a life in real life, because it has seemed to me that I have lost all touch, all instinct for the actual, the real; because at last I have cursed myself; because after my fantastic nights I have moments of returning sobriety, which are awful!”

BeautyIsolationClassicsWhite Nights
Author:Fyodor Dostoevsky
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“Do you know that, maybe, I shall leave off grieving over the crime and sin of my life? for such a life is a crime and a sin. And do not imagine that I have been exaggerating anything—for goodness’ sake don't think that, Nastenka: for at times such misery comes over me, such misery.... Because it begins to seem to meat such times that I am incapable of beginning a life in real life, because it has seemed to me that I have lost all touch, all instinct for the actual, the real; because at last I have cursed myself; because after my fantastic nights I have moments of returning sobriety, which are awful!”

BeautyIsolationClassicsWhite Nights
Book:White Nights
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“Do you know that, maybe, I shall leave off grieving over the crime and sin of my life? for such a life is a crime and a sin. And do not imagine that I have been exaggerating anything—for goodness’ sake don't think that, Nastenka: for at times such misery comes over me, such misery.... Because it begins to seem to me at such times that I am incapable of beginning a life in real life, because it has seemed to me that I have lost all touch, all instinct for the actual, the real; because at last I have cursed myself; because after my fantastic nights I have moments of returning sobriety, which are awful! Meanwhile, you hear the whirl and roar of the crowd in the vortex of life around you; you hear, you see, men living in reality; you see that life for them is not forbid- den, that their life does not float away like a dream, like a vision; that their life is being eternally renewed, eter- nally youthful, and not one hour of it is the same as another; while fancy is so spiritless, monotonous to vulgarity and easily scared, the slave of shadows, of the idea, the slave of the first cloud that shrouds the sun, and overcasts with depression the true Petersburg heart so devoted to the sun—and what is fancy in depression!”

BeautyIsolationClassicsWhite Nights
Author:Fyodor Dostoevsky
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“O Nastenka, Nastenka ! Savez-vous que vous m'avez, et pour longtemps, réconcilié avec moi-même? Savez-vous que, dorénavant, je ne penserai plus autant de mal de moi, comme cela m'arrivait de le faire ? Savez-vous que, peut-être, je cesserai de souffrir d'avoir commis un crime, un péché dans ma vie, parce qu'une vie comme la mienne est un crime, un péché ? Et ne croyez pas que j'exagère quoi que ce soit, au nom du ciel, ne croyez pas cela, Nastenka, parce que je vis parfois des minutes d'une souffrance telle, oh, d'une souffrance... Parce que je commence à croire dans ces minutes que je ne serai jamais capable de commencer à vivre une vraie vie [...]”

AmourVieWhite NightsDostoevskySouffranceDostoievskiNuits Blanches
Book:Les Nuits blanches / Le Sous-sol
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“I see us as a black and white version of John and Yoko, a duet of magic and productivity. It feels as though it will last forever. Richard Pryor has finally found his panacea, me. People look at me as Richard's deliverance: he is the tragic, self- destructive freak no longer.”

White SupremacyWhitenessWhite PrivilegeWhite NightsIntolerantGolddiggerNarrow Minded PeopleRichard PryorSmall MindWhite Savior Complex
Book:Tarnished Angel: Surviving in the Dark Curve of Drugs, Violence, Sex, and Fame : A Memoir
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“As I listen to their jive, I try to find my way around the street mind, the black man's mind. Feeling left out, like an ostracized kid at a playground, I try to join in on the "get down" flavor of the dialogue by calling Richard Pryor a nigger.”

White SupremacyWhitenessWhite PrivilegeWhite NightsIntolerantGolddiggerNarrow Minded PeopleRichard PryorSmall MindXenophobic
Book:Tarnished Angel: Surviving in the Dark Curve of Drugs, Violence, Sex, and Fame : A Memoir
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“Le jour d'aujourd'hui fut triste, pluvieux, sans éclaircie, un peu comme ma vieillesse future. Des pensées si étranges m'oppressent, des sensations si sombres, des questions qui me restent encore si obscures s'amassent dans ma tête, et, je ne sais pas, je n'ai pas la force, pas le désir de les résoudre. Ce n'est pas à moi de résoudre tout cela! Aujourd'hui, nous ne nous verrons pas. Hier, quand nous nous sommes quittés, les nuages commençaient à recouvrir le ciel, et le brouillard montait. Je lui dis qu'il allait faire mauvais le lendemain; elle ne répondit rien; elle ne voulait rien dire contre elle-même; pour elle, ce jour était brillant et clair, pas un nuage ne devait voiler son bonheur.”

White NightsDostoevskyNuits BlanchesNuages
Book:Les Nuits blanches / Le Sous-sol
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“— Attendre quoi ? Comment ? — Je l'aime; mais ça passera, ça doit passer, ça ne peut pas ne pas passer; ça passe déjà, je le sens... Comment savoir ? Peut-être ce sera fini aujourd'hui même, parce que je le déteste, parce qu'il s'est moqué de moi, alors que vous, vous avez pleuré avec moi, ici, parce que vous ne m'avez pas rejetée, comme lui, parce que vous m'aimez, et lui, il ne m'aime pas, parce que, moi aussi, à la fin, je vous aime... Oui ! je vous aime ! je vous aime comme vous m'aimez; et je vous l'ai dit moi-même, la première, vous l'avez entendu - et si je vous aime, c'est que vous êtes mieux que lui, que vous êtes plus honnête que lui, c'est parce que lui, lui, lui... La pauvre petite était tellement émue qu'elle ne ter- mina pas sa phrase, elle posa sa tête sur mon épaule, puis sur ma poitrine, et elle pleura amèrement. Je la consolais, j'essayais de lui parler, mais elle n'arrivait pas à s'arrêter; elle ne faisait que me serrer la main et me disait, au milieu de ses sanglots: "Attendez, attendez; je vais arrêter, tout de suite ! Je veux vous dire.. ne croyez pas que ces larmes... ce n'est rien, une faiblesse, attendez, ça va passer..." A la fin, elle cessa, sécha ses larmes et nous nous remîmes à marcher. Je voulais parler, mais elle me demanda encore longtemps d'attendre. Nous nous tûmes... A la fin, elle rassembla tout son courage et se mit à parler...”

AmourWhite NightsDostoevskyPleurerNuits Blanches
Book:Les Nuits blanches / Le Sous-sol
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“Mes nuits s'achevèrent ce matin. Un jour sinistre. La pluie tombait, elle battait tristement mes carreaux; il faisait sombre dans ma chambre ; gris dehors. J'avais mal à la tête, le vertige; la fièvre me parcourait le corps. — Une lettre pour toi, mon bon monsieur, par la poste urbaine, le facteur vient de passer, murmura Matriona au-dessus de moi. — Une lettre ! de qui ? m'écriai-je, bondissant de ma chaise. — Ben j'en sais rien, mon bon monsieur, peut-être que c'est écrit dessus... Je brisai le cachet. Une lettre d'elle !”

AmourWhite NightsDostoevskyLettreNuits Blanches
Book:Les Nuits blanches / Le Sous-sol
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“Dear Nastenka, I know I describe splendidly, but, excuse me, I don't know how else to do it. At this moment, dear Nastenka, at this moment I am like the spirit of King Solomon when, after lying a thousand years under seven seals in his urn, those seven seals were at last taken off. At this moment, Nastenka, when we have met at last after such a long separation - for I have known you for ages, Nastenka, because I have been looking for some one for ages, and that is a sign that it was you I was looking for, and it was ordained that we should meet now - at this moment a thousand valves have opened in my head, and I must let myself flow in a river of words, or I shall choke. And so I beg you not to interrupt me, Nastenka, but listen humbly and obediently, or I will be silent.”

White Nights
Book:White Nights
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“شما را به خدا این فکر را نکنید ناستنکا ، زیرا من بغضی وقت ها به قدری غصه دارم ، به قدری نا امیدم که .... چون من در این اوقات به این فکر می افتم که هرگز نخواهم توانست درست زندگی کنم. چون این جور وقت ها فکر می کنم که توانایی سنجش و بینش و احساس واقعیت را از دست داده ام ، چون خودم را لعنت کرده ام ، چون همیشه بعد از این شب های رویا هشیار می شوم و این هشیاری نمی دانید چه تلخ است ! وقتی آدم هشیار می شود هیاهوی انبوه مردم را در اطراف خود می شنود که در گردباد زندگی حرکت می کنند، می بیند و می شنود که مردم زنده اند و بیدارند ، می بیند که در زندگی بر آنها بسته نیست. می بیند که زندگی مردم دیگر مثل خواب و خیال بر باد نمی رود و نابود نمی شود ، زندگی شان پیوسته تازه می شود و همیشه جوان است ، و هیچ لحظه ای از آن به لحظه ی دیگر نمی ماند ، در حالی که خیال بازی های آمیخته با ترس غم انگیز و و در نهایت فلاکت یکنواخت است. در اندوه ، کجا نقش خیال انگیزی یافت شدنی است؟”

White NightsBeli Nochiشبهای روشن
Author:Feodor Dostoyevsky
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“Ascoltate, perchè non siamo tutti come fratelli gli uni per gli altri? Perchè anche la persona migliore nasconde sempre qualcosa all'altro e non gliene parla? Perchè non dire francamente, subito, quello che si ha nel cuore, se si che le nostre parole non saranno dette al vento? Invece ognuno appare per così dire più burbero di quanto non sia effettivamente, come se tutti avessero paura di fare torto ai propri sentimenti se li esternassero troppo in fretta...”

LoveFeelingsItalianoWhite NightsDostoevskyLe Notti Bianche
Author:Dostoevsky F.
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“Ar žinote, kad aš dabar mėgstu prisiminti ir tam tikru laiku aplankyti tas vietas, kur kitados esu buvęs saviškai laimingas, mėgstu kurti savąją dabartį pagal tai, kas yra nebegrįžtamai praėję, ir dažnai slampinėju kaip šešėlis be reikalo ir be tikslo, nuliūdęs ir nusiminęs, Peterburgo užkampiais bei gatvėmis. Ir vis kokie atsiminimai! Pavyzdžiui, prisi­meni, kad štai čia lygiai prieš metus, lygiai tuo pačiu laiku, tą pačią valandą, šituo pačiu šaligatviu taip pat vaikštinėjai vienišas, taip pat nusiminęs kaip ir dabar! Ir prisimeni, kad ir tuomet svajonės buvo liūdnos, ir nors ir pirma buvo ne geriau, bet vis tartum jauti, kad gal ir lengviau, ir ramiau buvo gyventi, kad nebuvo tų sun­ kių minčių, kurios dabar prikibo prie manęs; kad nebu­ vo sąžinės graužimo, niūraus, rūškano graužimo, kuris dabar nei dieną, nei naktį neduoda ramybės. Ir klausi save: kurgi tavo svajonės? Ir linguoji galvą, sakai: kaip greitai bėga metai! Ir vėl klausi save: o ką gi tu nu­ veikei per tuos savo metus? kur palaidojai savo gražiau­siąjį laiką? Gyvenai tu ar ne? Žiūrėk, sakai sau, žiūrėk, kaip pasaulyje darosi šalta. Dar praeis keleri metai, ir po jų ateis niūri vienatvė, atslinks kretanti senatvė su lazda, o po jų maudulys ir nusiminimas. Nublanks tavo fantastinis pasaulis, sustings, nuvys tavo svajonės ir nu­ byrės kaip geltoni lapai nuo medžių... O Nastenka! Juk bus liūdna likti vienam, visiškai vienam, ir netgi netu­ rėti ko gailėtis—nieko, ničnieko... nes viskas, ko ne­ tekai, visa tai, viskas buvo niekis, kvailas, tuščias nulis, buvo vien tik svaja!”

White NightsFyodor Dostoyevski
Author:Fyodor Dostoyevski
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“С самого утра меня стала мучить какая-то удивительная тоска. Мне вдруг показалось, что меня, одинокого, все покидают и что все от меня отступаются. Оно, конечно, всякий вправе спросить: кто же эти все? потому что вот уже восемь лет, как я живу в Петербурге, и почти ни одного знакомства не умел завести”

White Nights
Book:White Nights
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