There are souls which, in their limitation, blame the whole world. But subdue such a soul with mercy, show it love, and it will cure its past, for there are many good impulses in it.
WHEN he was half-way there, the keen dry wind that had been blowing early that morning rose again, and a fine dry snow began falling thickly. It did not lie on the ground, but was whirled about by the wind, and soon there was a regular snowstorm.
And all this, all this abroad, all this Europe of yours, it's all just a fantasy, and all of us, while we're abroad, are just a fantasy… mark my words, you'll see for yourself!' she concluded, almost angrily, as she parted from Yevgeny Pavlovich.
Yes, they are making the most of it! They've wept over it and grown used to it. Man grows used to everything, the scoundrel! He.
Truth with love is a lie.
He doesn't love anyone, and maybe he never will.