Quotes and phrases about love. Quotes Love with all your heart and trust in the rest

To love means to find in the happiness of another, your own happiness. (Gottfried Leibniz)

Only those who have a warm heart can experience boundless happiness and eternal love. Hong Zicheng

Love is the only passion that cannot bear the past or the future. (Honore de Balzac)

He who truly loves is not jealous. (Anna Steel)

“In love, there must be mutual admiration, as a result of which, someone will consider himself smart, and someone beautiful.”

"One look can kill love, one look can resurrect it."

In this world, many are unhappy, but only because of the inability to love, to love another being. Eduard Limonov

If it seems that the one you have loved is like two drops of water like you and wants everything that you want, then in reality you will not love her, but only yourself. Margarita Valois

One look can kill love, one look can resurrect it.

Nothing strengthens love like insurmountable obstacles. (Lope de Vega)

Love never asks, it always gives. (Swami Vivekananda)

To love means to stop comparing. (Bernard Grasset)

And so it began, December. Soon the date that everyone is waiting for and afraid. A milestone that we will survive? Certainly, we will not remain the same. The familiar wise Pythagorean pedantically prepares; she had a new sense of extended time, with seconds full and weighty. He splits firewood, buys canned food and candles (by the way, I also have to go buy. And matches); plans to attach the dog to those who are younger and stronger. Cheerfulness and activity - in the name of the salvation of the soul.

But even if the nerves are like ropes, the bins are full and the firewood is prepared for a year, a person, closing his eyes and trembling, is unlikely to be able to exist for three days.

It remains to put thoughts in order, pay earthly debts and - as the Stoics taught ...

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However, only advanced ones will ascend.

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It will probably hurt. "Our spirit boils, the flesh languishes, Giving birth to an organ for the sixth sense..." (NG)
Most say: nonsense, malicious fiction.

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Or a mega joke:

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The most sighted have already seen the interpenetration of spatial layers:

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Are you strong enough to endure? It is more accustomed to run away, hide... Scenes from the "New Robinsons" by Voroness Lyudmila von Petrushevskaya pop up. Strongly, it always penetrates me:

Or another ingenious parable, "Hygiene". I offered it to others as a test. Basically, the reaction is squeamish. I looked on the network - there are analyzes with t.zr. pm-aesthetics, etc.: http://blog.imhonet.ru/author/vbar/post/531737/

And it's about love.
Refresh your memory:
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One day, the bell rang in the apartment of the R. family, and a little girl ran to open it. Behind the door stood a young man who, in the light, turned out to be somehow sick, with a thin, shiny pink skin on his face. He said he had come to warn of impending danger. That it seems that an epidemic of a viral disease has begun in the city, from which death occurs in three days, and a person is blown up and so on. A symptom is the appearance of individual blisters or just bumps. There is hope to stay alive if you strictly observe the rules of personal hygiene, do not leave the apartment and if there are no mice, since mice are the main source of infection, as always.

The young man was listened to by his grandparents, a little girl and her father. The mother was in the bathroom.

I got sick of this disease, - said the young man and took off his hat, under which there was a completely naked pink skull, covered with the thinnest skin, like a film on boiling milk. stocks, if anyone does not. Do you have stocks? Give me money, I'll go, and a bigger bag, if there is one - on wheels. There are already long queues in the stores, but I am not afraid of infection.
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Thank you, - said the grandfather, - we do not need.

In case of illness of all family members, leave the doors open. I chose what I could, four sixteen-story houses. Those of you who are saved can, just like me, help people, lower corpses, and so on.

What does it mean to lower the corpses? - asked the grandfather.

I developed an evacuation system by dropping them into the street. Requires plastic bags large sizes Well, I don't know where to get them. The industry produces double film, it can be adapted, but where to get the money, everything depends on money. This film can be cut with a hot knife, a bag of any length is automatically welded. Hot knife and double film.

No, thank you, we don't need it, - said the grandfather.

The young man went further through the apartments, like a beggar, asking for money; as soon as the door was slammed behind him, he rang at the neighboring doors, and there they opened the chain for him, so that he was forced to tell his version and take off his hat on the stairs, while they watched him through the crack. It was heard that something was briefly answered to him and the door was slammed, but he still did not leave, no steps were heard. Then the door opened again on the chain, someone else wanted to listen to the story. The story was repeated. In response, the voice of a neighbor was heard:

If you have money, run and bring ten pints, I'll give you the money.

Footsteps were heard and everything was quiet.

When he comes, - said the grandmother, - let him bring us bread and condensed milk ... and eggs. Then you need cabbage and potatoes.

A charlatan, - said grandfather, - although he does not look like a burnt one, this is something else.

Finally, the father started up, took the little girl by the hand and led her out of the hallway - these were not his parents, but their wives, and he did not particularly support them in everything, no matter what they said. They didn't ask him either. In his opinion, something really began, it could not but begin, he felt it for a long time and was waiting. Some kind of numbness took over him. He took the girl by the hand and led her out of the hallway so that she would not stick around there when the mysterious guest knocked on the next apartment: it was necessary to talk with him properly, like a peasant with a peasant - what he was treated for, what were the circumstances.

The grandparents, however, remained in the hallway because they had heard that no one had called for the elevator and, therefore, that person went further up the floor; apparently, he collected money and bags at once, so as not to endlessly run to the store. Or no one has given him money or bags yet, otherwise he would have left a long time ago in the elevator, because there should have been orders for the sixth floor. Or he really was a charlatan and collected money just like that, for himself, as already once in her life her grandmother ran into a woman who, like this, through a crack, told her that she was from the second entrance, and there a woman of sixty-nine years old died, Baba Nyura, and she collects according to the list for her funeral, whoever gives how much, and showed her grandmother a list where there were paintings and amounts - thirty kopecks, a ruble, two rubles. Grandmother took out a ruble, although she never remembered Aunt Nyura, and no wonder, because five minutes later a good neighbor rang at the door and said that it was a swindler unknown to anyone, and with her two men, they were waiting for her on the second floor, and they just disappeared from the entrance with the money, they left the list.

Grandmother and grandfather stood in the hallway and waited, then the girl's father Nikolai came and also began to listen, finally Elena, his wife, came out of the bathroom and loudly began to ask what it was, but she was stopped.

However, the bells were no longer heard on the stairs. That is, the elevator went back and forth, they even got out of it on their floor, but then they rattled the keys and slammed the doors. But it wasn't the same man in the hat. He would have called instead of opening the door with his key.

Nikolai turned on the TV, had dinner, and Nikolai ate a lot, including bread, and grandfather could not resist and made him a remark that give dinner to the enemy, and Elena stood up for her husband, and the girl said: “What are you yelling about,” and life took its course.

At night below, judging by the sound, a very large glass was broken.

Showcase of a bakery, - said grandfather, going out onto the balcony. - Run, Kolya, stock up.

They began to collect Nikolai, while they were collecting, a police car drove up, they took someone, put a policeman in, drove off. Nikolai went with a backpack and a knife, there was a whole group of people down there, the policeman was surrounded, crushed, people started jumping and jumping through the window, someone had a fight with a woman, took away her suitcase with bread, they covered her mouth and dragged her to the bakery. People were coming downstairs. Finally, Nikolai came with a very rich backpack - thirty kilograms of dryers and ten loaves of bread.
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Nikolai took off everything and threw it into the garbage chute, in the hallway he wiped himself from head to toe with cologne, threw all the fleece in a bag out the window. Grandfather, who was pleased with everything that was happening, only noticed that he would have to cherish the cologne and all the medicines. We fell asleep. In the morning, at breakfast, Nikolai alone ate half a kilo of dryers for tea and joked about this: “Eat breakfast yourself.” Grandfather had false teeth and yearned, soaking dryers in tea. Grandmother withdrew into herself, and Elena tried to persuade the girl to eat more dryers. Grandmother finally could not stand it and said that it was necessary to establish a norm, not to rob every night, they boarded up the bakery too, they took everything out. We counted the reserves, divided everything into rations. Elena gave her ration to the girl at lunchtime, Nikolai was like a black cloud and after dinner he ate a loaf of black bread alone. Food should have been enough for a week, and then the lid came. Nikolai and Elena called to work, but no one picked up the phone either at Nikolai's or Elena's. We called friends, everyone was sitting at home. Everyone expected. The TV stopped working, the frequency whistled there. The next day the phone did not connect. Below, on the street, passers-by with backpacks and bags were walking, someone was dragging a small sawn tree. The question arose of what to do with the cat - the animal did not receive anything for the second day and meowed terribly on the balcony.

It is necessary to let in and feed, - said grandfather. - A cat is a valuable fresh vitamin meat.

Nikolai let the cat in, they fed her with soup, not very much, so as not to overfeed after the hunger strike. The girl did not leave the cat, those two days when the cat was meowing on the balcony, the girl was eager for her, and now she was feeding her for her own pleasure, even her mother flared up: “Give her what I tear from myself for you.”
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The cat was thus fed, but the food remained for five days. Everyone was waiting for something to happen, someone to announce mobilization, but on the third night the engines roared in the streets, and the army left the city.

They will go beyond, cordon off the quarantine, - said grandfather. - Neither into the city, nor out of the city. The worst thing is that everything turned out to be true. We have to go to the city for groceries.

Give me cologne - I'll go, - said Nikolai. - Almost all of mine.

Everything will be yours, - said grandfather meaningfully, but also evasively. He lost a lot of weight. - Happiness is that the water supply and sewerage work.

Fuck you, jinx it, - said the grandmother.

Nikolai went to the grocery store at night, he took with him a backpack and bags, as well as a knife and a flashlight. He returned when it was still dark, undressed on the stairs, threw his clothes into the garbage chute and wiped himself naked with cologne. After wiping the sole, he stepped into the apartment, then wiped the other sole, threw the fleece down in a piece of paper. He put the backpack to boil in the tank, the bags too. He did not get much: soap, matches, salt, barley porridge, jelly and barley coffee. Grandfather was very happy, he was completely delighted. Nikolai burned the knife on a gas flame.

Blood is the biggest infection, - grandfather remarked, going to bed in the morning.

Food, as it was calculated, should now be enough for ten days, if you eat jelly, cereals and eat a little of everything.

Nikolai began to go fishing every night, and a question arose with clothes. Nikolai began to put it on the stairs in a plastic bag, the knife was calcined all the time. But he still ate a lot, however, now without remarks from his grandfather.

The cat was losing weight day by day, the skin covered her, lunches, dinners and breakfasts passed in torment, as the girl all the time tried to throw something on the floor to the cat. Elena began to simply beat on the hands. Everyone was screaming. The cat was taken out, she rushed against the door.

Once it resulted in a terrible scene. The girl came with a cat in her arms to the kitchen, where there were grandparents. The mouth of the cat and the girl were smeared with something.

Here, - said the girl and kissed, probably not for the first time, a cat in a filthy muzzle.

What is it?” exclaimed the grandmother.

She caught a mouse, - the girl answered. - She ate it. - And the girl kissed the cat on the mouth again.

What mouse? - asked grandfather, he and grandmother were numb.

Such a gray mouse.

Bloated? Tolstoy?

Yes, fat, big. - The cat in the hands of the girl began to break out.

Hold on tight! - said grandfather. - Go to your room, baby, go. Go with the kitty. Oh you bastard, oh you bastard. Finished playing with the cat, such rubbish. A? Finished the game?

Do not yell, - said the girl and quickly ran away to her.

Grandfather followed her and sprayed all her traces with cologne from a spray bottle. Then he locked the door to the nursery on a chair, then called Nikolai, he slept after a sleepless night, Elena slept with him. They woke up. Everything was discussed. Elena began to cry and tear her hair out. There was a knock from the girl's room.

Let me in, open it, let me go to the toilet, - the girl screamed with tears.

Listen to me, - Nikolai shouted, - do not yell!

Let go, let go! Don't yell yourself! Let me go! Nikolai and the others went into the kitchen. Elena had to be kept locked in the bath. She also knocked on the door.

By evening, the girl calmed down. Nikolay asked if she went to the toilet. The girl hardly answered that yes, she went into her underpants, and asked for a drink.

In the girl's room there was a children's bed, a folding bed, a wardrobe with the things of the whole family, locked with a key, a carpet and shelves with books. A cozy children's room, which has now turned into quarantine by chance. Nikolai cut through the door something like a window and ordered the girl to take, for the first time, a bottle on a string, where there was soup with bread crumbs, all together. The girl was ordered to urinate in this bottle and pour it out the window. But the window was locked with the top latch, the girl never reached it, and the bottle was a bad idea. The issue of excrement should have been solved simply - a sheet or two were torn out of the book, defecate on it and thrown out the window. Nikolai made a slingshot out of wire and shot three times through a rather large hole in the window.

The girl, however, showed all the fruits of her upbringing and defecated sloppily, not on paper, she did not have time to follow her desires herself. Elena asked her twenty times a day if she wanted something, she answered that she didn’t want to, and as a result she turned out to be smeared. In addition, it was difficult with food. There were a limited number of bottles and ropes, the rope was cut off every time, and nine bottles were lying around the room by the time the girl stopped coming to the door, getting up and answering questions. The cat, apparently, did not get up from the girl’s body, however, she had not appeared in sight for a long time, since Nikolai began to hunt her with a slingshot, since the girl fed the cat almost half of what she herself received in a bottle, it all poured out her on the floor. The girl did not answer questions, her bed stood against the wall and did not fall into the field of view.
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The previous three days, the struggle to arrange the life of the girl, all these innovations, attempts to somehow teach the girl to wipe herself (until now Elena did it for her), the transfer of water so that she somehow washed herself, all these persuasion, so that the girl would come under peephole behind a bottle (once Nikolai wanted to wash a girl by pouring a can of hot water instead of giving food, and then she began to be afraid to approach the door) - all this literally wiped the inhabitants of the apartment into powder that when the girl stopped responding, everyone lay down and fell asleep for a very long time.

But then it all ended very soon. Waking up, grandparents in their bed found a cat with the same bloodied muzzle - apparently, the cat ate the girl, but got out through the vent - to drink, or something. Oh, oh, they screamed, grandparents groaned, to which Nikolai appeared in the doorway in response and, having listened to all the cries, simply slammed the door and fussed from the other side, locking the door on a chair. The door not only did not open, but Nikolai did not make an vent, they put it off. Elena screamed and wanted to remove the chair, but Nikolai locked her in the bathroom - again.

And Nikolai lay down on the bed and began to swell, swell, swell. Last night, he killed a woman with a backpack, and she, apparently, was already sick, so the disinfection of the knife over the gas did not help - in addition, Nikolai, right there, on the street, over the backpack, ate barley porridge concentrate, he wanted to try it and, on you ate everything.

Nikolai realized everything, but it was too late, when he already began to swell. The whole apartment rumbled from knocking, the cat meowed, in the upper apartment it also came to a knock, and Nikolai kept pushing until finally blood came out of his eyes, and he died, thinking about nothing, only pushing and wanting to free himself.

And no one opened the door to the stairs, but in vain, because, carrying bread, that young man was walking through the apartments, and in R.’s apartment all the knocks had already subsided, only Elena was scratching a little, bleeding from her eyes, not seeing anything, and what was seen in a completely dark bathroom, lying on the floor.

Why did the young man come so late? Yes, because he had a lot of apartments on the site, four huge houses. And the second time the young man came to this entrance only in the evening at the end of the sixth day, three days after the girl calmed down, a day after the departure of Nikolai, twelve hours after the departure of Elena's parents and five minutes after Elena.

However, the cat kept meowing, as in that famous story where the husband killed his wife and laid her with a brick wall, and the investigation came and, by meowing in the wall, figured out what was the matter, since the beloved cat of the hostess was immured in the wall along with the corpse and lived there, eating her flesh. The cat meowed, and the young man, hearing the only living voice in the whole entrance, where, by the way, all the knocks and screams had already subsided, decided to fight for at least one life, brought an iron crowbar, it was lying in the yard covered in blood, and broke the door . What did he see? A familiar black mountain in the bathroom, a black mountain in the passage room, two black mountains behind the door, locked on a chair, from there the cat slipped out. The cat deftly jumped into the vent, crudely knocked out in another door, and a human voice was heard there. The young man removed that chair as well and entered a room littered with glass, rubbish, excrement, pages torn from books, headless mice, bottles, and ropes. Lying on the bed was a girl with a bald skull, bright red, exactly the same as young man, only redder. The girl looked at the young man, and a cat sat on her pillow and also stared intently.

And the title of the post is a slightly paraphrased Nabokov.

“To love with all your heart, and for the rest to trust fate - that was her simple rule,” wrote V.V. Nabokov about his mother in the autobiographical novel "Other Shores".
OTHER!
SHORE
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"THE WHO ENDER TO THE END WILL BE SAVE" (Matthew 24)

Three planes

Everything is moved by love, and Nabokov's art lives through it in its three-stage movement.

In every essay, even in the shortest story, he tries to capture and depict the features of the "outer world", driven by an insatiable love for material detail, accessible to any of the five perceptual senses. Often, in addition, he experiences the "inner world", the life of the soul hidden from the external view, for which the person being tested is placed in extreme or catastrophic situations. At the same time, love for the created natural world, in its incomprehensible diversity and inexpressible beauty, inspires and frames a sympathetic (or antipathetic) image of an equally diverse, pulsating between beneficent and terrible psychological state of the human creature.

Finally, in many writings, he undertakes a study of the actual limits of both the external world and the inner one, and projects his thought from the boundaries of both into an imaginary "other world", perfectly aware of its absolutely insurmountable resistance to any preliminary test, even admiring the very insurmountability of the task, and yet recognizing that the very desire to repeat these attempts is equally irresistible. After all, both Dmitry Sineusov and John Shade - in different hemispheres, at different times - came to the conclusion that in this case the very delusions and dead ends, if they do not reveal anything, then reward an honest private detective with something.

All these steps, discernible in Nabokov's prose and poetry, have been subjected to concentrated, though not cumulative, study by Western scholars over the past forty years, with changes in the direction of their attention following the order indicated here: from more obvious features to more difficult, and from there to inaccessible. At the same time, it should be noted that each stage had its own group of interested persons, who did not give up their belief in the prevailing importance of their way of looking at Nabokov with the advent of a new direction and new group researchers. Thus, the waves of scientific work rolled over each other in a fairly quick succession, replacing each other, but not overcoming. Brian Boyd was the first to attempt to conjugate these three planes in his book on Hell and in Nabokov's biography. (142)

Drawing the mother's silhouette in Other Shores, Nabokov gives us a glimpse of one causal link that turns out to be very important for a true understanding of his aesthetics, the link between love and memory endowed with lovingly chosen and accumulated gifts.

To love with all my heart, and for the rest to trust fate - that was her simple rule. "Remember," she said, with a mysterious look, offering my attention the treasured detail: a lark rising into a cloudy mother-of-pearl sunless sky. spring day, flashes of night lightning shooting in different positions a distant grove, paints maple leaves on the palette of the wet terrace, the cuneiform of a bird's walk on the fresh snow. (143)

The etiological transition from the condition "to love with all my heart" to postponing the preservation of treasured details in memory is extremely important for my plot. It happens that Nabokov launches this technique in the very course of describing the principle of its operation; so in the passage just quoted, he deliberately uses the very words that his mother used to encourage him to remember something, and what else explains the choice of these particular words, if not the fact that love for the mother is the very reason according to which he kept her words in the fireproof box of the soul, and now takes them out of there wrapped in her manner of pronouncing them, in her intonation, and even together with a special mysterious expression on her face. Nabokov will never simply say that he dearly loved his mother, or father, or anyone else, because it is “not said that way”, but there are some implicit ways for this.

These cherished details, listed here as an example, all went to the construction of his prose, after any transformations, of course, and the attentive reader, heeding the advice of Nabokov's mother, greets them with a nod of sudden recognition at some crossroads or lane of his novel or in a line of a poem . (144)

The love of attraction to something, love that is attractive, always has a direct object of its application, that is, it always has both a direction and a goal. It is she who drives ("motivates") the study of the world given to the senses, as well as the world inaccessible to them - the very thing that Nabokov quite consciously did all his life. This inner movement, this "motive", cannot be subtracted from Nabokov's published words. Only once, when extraordinary personal artistic circumstances required it, did he raise his visor: I am talking about a tense lyrical passage in his most (relatively, of course) frank work, in carefully constructed memoirs, where a sincere note of private recognition was required. Just as at the beginning of the book he recalls his mother's words to save cherished details, so now in its last chapter Nabokov refers to the second person, to another, to a friend, to "you" - the beloved memoirist, whom this book (as, incidentally, and his other books) owes much, as his famous short dedication exclaims, ubiquitous and eloquent.

The narrator of the first person returns home from the maternity hospital at about five o'clock in the morning, the second person of his narrative is about to give birth to the third, and this event should complete, close the circular structure of the book and give its universe the "correct rhythm". I have already cited this passage in the chapter on horror and goodness, but I will allow myself to repeat it here more fully, since it is extremely important and, it seems, the only one of its kind in Nabokov:

In the purity and emptiness of an unfamiliar hour, the shadows lay on an unfamiliar side, a complete rearrangement was obtained, not devoid of some grace, like how a segment of a panel with careless passers-by going into an abstract world is reflected in the mirror of a hairdresser - which suddenly ceases to be funny and pours over soul with a wave of terror. When I think about my love for someone, I have a habit of drawing radii from this love, from the tender core of personal feeling to the monstrously elusive points of the universe. Something makes me, as consciously as possible, try on personal love for impersonal and immeasurable quantities - for voids between the stars, for nebulae (the very remoteness of which is already a kind of madness), for the terrible traps of eternity, for all this helplessness, cold, dizziness, steepness time and space, inexplicably passing one into the other.<…>When this slow and silent explosion of love occurs in me, unfolding its melting edges and enveloping me with the consciousness of something much more real, incorruptible and powerful than the entire set of matter and energy in any cosmos, then I mentally have to pinch myself to see if I am sleeping. my mind. I must make a lightning-fast inventory of the world, make all space and time accomplices in my mortal feeling of love, so that, like pain, mortality can be appeased and help myself in the fight against the stupidity and horror of this humiliating situation in which I, a man, could develop infinity in myself. feelings and thoughts at the finiteness of existence.

The rays of heartfelt human love, rushing towards an inconceivably distant center along converging, albeit parallel, courses, are reminiscent of a geometric analogy, it seems, of Abba Dorotheus, who depicts humanity inside a circle, with its Most High Creator in the center. People, as they approach the center along converging radii, thereby become closer to each other (and, on the contrary, diverge further and further as they move away from the center). It is unlikely that Nabokov knew this drawing; however, it is curious that both in the English original and in the Russian translation he uses the Latin “radii”, and not the usual English or Russian word luch, i.e. here he has a descriptive image. But in the 1940s, this image was already turned inside out: in the center he placed the “tender core of personal feeling”, from which the rays rush to “impersonal quantities” and “nebulae”. Indeed, at that time he had a nebula at the ultimate point of convergence of the rays, possibly impersonal: “ something Forces me…". And yet, in some general sense, this image of him is not alien to Dorofeev, albeit with a change in direction and application (very private, not universal): these centripetal rays, conducting the warmth of a loving human heart to unimaginable distances, have a higher natural source and an extraterrestrial point destination.

Nabokov's biography was born and brought up by his love for two intimately close family circles: one has as its center "Vyra", the estate where he spent his childhood, the other "V?ru", the wife with whom he lived for fifty-two years, and on these two axes they rotate in the book. In the first circle, at the beginning of the memoirs, Nabokov introduces himself as a recently born “third person”, led by his parents by the hands from both sides along the fir tree to the estate. In the second - "I" and "you" hold their six-year-old son by the hands and lead him towards the sunset, and on that the book closes.

All the above-mentioned main components of Nabokov's pictorial, exploratory-psychological and contemplative plans of art are brought in Other Shores to their utmost intensity and at the same time sophistication in terms of coordination of themes and masterful juxtaposition of parts. Their intentional correlation is characteristic of Nabokov's entire system. What is most noticeable in it, what catches the eye, not even armed with experience? The redundancy of delightfully fresh details of the created world, the world common to the narrator and the reader - details saturated with a special rot-resistant composition (literary production, of course). Much less noticeable is the semi-submerged psychological description of human emotions and relationships. Finally, an inexperienced eye cannot discern the dotted tangent theme of the mystery of death and the afterlife. Even in the shortest space of the cited passage, one can see all these three components in a sequential chain of their precisely calculated ignition: here a familiar street suddenly becomes strangely unrecognizable in the early morning light, here this introductory strangeness is enhanced by an intricate comparison with the image of the outside world in the barber's mirror (you can not doubt that at this very moment the narrator is passing by a hairdressing establishment), and here follows an enthusiastic song of mortal love, that is, love limited in its duration, but by an unmistakably sharp sensation directed towards infinity and charged for all eternity, for “ unknowable and unknown" immortality.

This principle of gradual ascent from the “external” to the “internal” and further to the “other” is especially easy to see in Luzhin’s Defense, where the iridescent facets of the material world are carefully reproduced, where the tragic theme of the destructive power of passion that absorbs a person and the healing power of the selfless compassion, where, finally, secretly hanging over the entire expanse of action is a ghostly plot of a titanic and at the same time slowly-quiet struggle of two spirits, invisibly, but ingeniously pulling Luzhin's soul each in his direction. And these three planes intersect each other with almost incomprehensible, almost astronomical precision and complexity. That is why this novel belongs to an extremely small number of truly three-dimensional works of literature.

On a small area of ​​the opening pages, Nabokov awakens and sharpens all the feelings of the reader, one after another, relying most of all on our ability to recognize in the image the things of an old acquaintance, to whom, however, no attention was paid before, in any case, as close as this image here captured and described. This double requirement for the image and its description (so that the reader has a sense of an old and personal, but neglected acquaintance) almost always determines the choice of detail in Nabokov. The smells of lilacs, haymaking, dry leaves (the initial and through whistle sounds in each of these four words), to which the country summer is reduced for a boy; the sweet inky taste of licorice sticks under the tongue; the wicker seat of the armchair, which received with a "crumbly crackle" (remembering hearing) a fat Frenchwoman; the tactile vision of a mosquito, which, “having stuck to his skinned knee, raised its ruby ​​belly in bliss”; the wool of the cloak pinching the neck - all these samples are taken as a sample from the first two pages of the book (except the last, taken from the fifth), and all five senses are here with incredible art both divided and intertwined, and each shade of perception is bright and truthful in its own way. unique beauty - and at the same time, each is placed in its place as a kind of landmark, because it will be found and remembered (that is, it must be remembered and sought out if the reader is worthy of the book) later, when Luzhin will recall his childhood.

All best books Nabokov are written in accordance with this system. One might even say that his very urge to compose came in part from a desire to defuse, to express his love on these three levels. This is, of course, true of any so-called creative effort, but Nabokov invented his own system in which an accurate description of the perceived given not only leads to higher and more complex phases of artistic research, but is also a necessary and indispensable preliminary condition for a possible later metaphysical experiment. According to this system, an unobservant or indifferent person cannot think in an original and strong way, and, for example, Professor Bolotov and even Professor Pnin (despite the latter’s strange, dreamlike intuitions) are much further from the extreme tracts of the unknown world than Professor Krug or, say, the poets Koncheev and Shade. I believe that Nabokov's contempt for Dostoevsky and his denial of the originality of his thought, not to mention his art, so unpleasant for Nabokov's Soviet admirers - and so irritable for non-lovers - stemmed from the undeniable circumstance that Dostoevsky did not know how and therefore, perhaps, did not wanted to notice the external world in its particularity and neglected such basic givens, usually lovingly sought out and depicted by both great and weak artists, as landscape, weather, seasons, vegetable landscape, chromatic diversity of the world, features of the appearance of the earth and man. Nabokov deliberately endows other of his writing characters with this defect, for example, Ivan Luzhin or Shirin (from The Gift), and this defect is presented as irreparably crippling the prose writer.

In his Cornell lectures, he makes an essentially correct assumption that Dostoevsky almost from the very beginning fell into a literary genre alien to himself, for his books densely packed with dialogue are not novels in the strict sense of the word, according to which the art of prose is actually and above all art. pictorial, but rather terribly drawn out (according to dramatic rules) tragedies, moreover, most of the dramatic conventions are trampled - where unconsciously, where on purpose. (145) In Nabokov's opinion, Dostoevsky's novels, if they are presented as experiments in the dramatic study of the aggravated or infringed states of the suffering human soul, suffer from a serious injury artistically, because they are all unprocessed raw materials, artistically unprepared, uncultivated. Nabokov firmly believed that fiction a psychological experiment does not lead to success if there is not that loving attention that human perception owes to the world, accessible to feelings. In other words, it is impossible to study perversion in the depths of a person’s soul, hidden from the gaze, if you cannot see and study (i.e., love) the perfections around yourself, in a world open to both the gaze and other feelings, because gross mistakes and the absurdity of just the kind from which Nabokov so irritably and hastily gathers not the best examples in his lectures. (146) An imaginary world, since it has been built so clumsily and hastily, falls apart at the first skillful poke of an expert who knows its weak points.

The only thing that matters at the end of our time on earth is how much we loved, what the quality of our love was.
- Richard Bach.

Don't mix Love eager to take over. - Antoine de Saint-Exupery

Nothing inspires a creative nature, awakens in it the joy of life and a thirst for creation, as Love.
- Oleg Roy. "Trap for the Master of Destiny"

soul fire can not see. But how warm it is...
- Anevito Kem

Be in love someone means to wish first of all happiness to him, and then to yourself.
- Elchin Safarli

Love- this is when the happiness of another is necessary condition your happiness
- Robert Heinlein

Love- it is when the whole world is not able to replace a loved one, but he replaces the whole world.

When love lives in the heart- the body becomes younger and transforms, diseases disappear, good luck and luck come.
- Vladimir Lermontov

Love is the only thing in the world that gets bigger when shared with someone.
- Mother Teresa

The most important medicine is gentle Love and care. - Mother Teresa

Love connects so strongly that even the death of the body cannot destroy this connection! All that we sincerely love, - is securely stored in the memory of the soul!
- Lao Tzu

If one day I am not by your side, remember that you are braver than you think, stronger than you look, and smarter than you think. And one more thing - I will always be with you, even if I am not around.
— Alan Milne

The greatest happiness in life is the certainty that we are loved, love because we are who we are, or in spite of the fact that we are who we are.
- Victor Hugo

Not beauty calls Love and love makes us see beauty.
- L. N. Tolstoy

The most evil person's face lights up when he is told that he is loved. So, this is happiness...
- Lev Nikolayevich Tolstoy

loving person- the creator, and everything that he does in this state makes the world joyful and happy.
- Anatoly Nekrasov

It is not Love if it is not love for all.
- Sri Chinmoy

A person becomes mature at the moment when he begins to love without demanding Love in return...
- Osho

The only thing that matters at the end of our time on earth is that how much we loved what was the quality of our love.
- Richard Bach.

"The thought of love and desire to protect, strongly directed towards the beloved object, creates a form directed towards this person, which remains in his aura as a protective shield; it will seek every opportunity for service and protection; we can create and maintain a real guardian angel around those we love!"

"Materialized mental image, full of love, consciously directed to a loved one, is attached to his aura and protects him, because. charged with the strongest and purest energy, which tends to amplify all beneficial currents in the human aura and weaken harmful ones. Such a mental image can protect a person from an evil thought directed at him.

"Love your mother while she laughs and her eyes burn with warmth. And her voice pours into your soul, holy water, pure as a tear. Love your mother, she is the only one in the world who loves you and is constantly waiting. She will always meet you with a kind smile She alone will forgive you and understand."

To live according to its own law, a bee must fly, a snake must crawl, a fish must swim, and a man must love. And therefore, if a person, instead of loving people, does evil to people, he acts just as strangely as if a bird began to swim, and a fish began to fly.
- L.N. Tolstoy "The Way of Life"

If you don't have Love in your heart, then you don't have God. If you don't have God, then you don't have anything at all.
- Katerina Mershchy

Just because someone doesn't love you the way you want doesn't mean they don't love you with all their heart.
- Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Nothing inspires a creative nature, awakens in it the joy of life and a thirst for creation, like love.
- Oleg Roy, "A trap for the arbiter of fate."

Soon the whole Earth will be a temple, and in this energy will survive only those who have learned to love.
- S.N. Lazarev

The key to the doors of passage is simple: love. Love is the Key, there is the Code, true love have a pass!

If only humans could love the way cats love, the world would be a paradise.

True love doesn't have a happy ending. Real love doesn't end at all.

Old age does not protect against love, but love protects against old age.
- Coco Chanel

I love you not for who you are, but for who I am when I'm with you...
- Gabriel Marquez

If you start with self-sacrifice for the sake of those you love, then you will end up hating those to whom you have sacrificed yourself.
- Bernard Show

Marrying is not difficult at all, it is difficult to be married.
- M. Unamuno

To marry means to halve your rights and double your responsibilities.
- A. Schopenhauer

Marriage of convenience quite often turns into the crudest prostitution - sometimes of both parties, but much more often of a wife, who differs from an ordinary courtesan only in that she does not rent her body by the piece, like a hired worker, but sells it once and for all into slavery.
- F. Engels

The woman who never felt pity for her loved one, apparently, did not know love.
- A. Lenormand

When there is no one you love, you have to love what is.
- Pierre Corneille

- Mother Teresa

Love- this is when you wish all the best to the people you love, when you put their interests and well-being above your own, always.
- Angelina Jolie

Every hour dedicated to hate is an eternity taken away at love.
- L. Berne

“Love is long-suffering, merciful, love does not envy, love does not exalt itself, does not pride itself, does not behave violently, does not seek its own, is not irritated, does not think evil, does not rejoice in iniquity, but rejoices in the truth; covers everything, believes everything, hopes everything, endures everything.
- (Bible, 1 Corinthians 13:4-7)

Who didn't know love, he still did not live.
- Molière

Love destroys death and turns it into an empty ghost; it also turns life from nonsense into something meaningful and makes happiness out of misfortune.
- Tolstoy L.N.

What are we spending our lives on?
For petty quarrels
To stupid words, empty talk,
To the vanity of insults, to anger - again and again.
What are we doing with our lives...
And it would be necessary for love ...

Love is the freedom to be yourself next to a person who accepts you as you are, and who does not need anything from you except yourself.

If someone does not love you the way you want, it does not mean that he does not love you with all his heart.
- Gabriel Garcia Marquez

"It always seems to us that we are loved because we are good. But we do not realize that we are loved because those who love us are good."
- L. Tolstoy

Nothing of value can be born out of ambition or a sense of duty. Values ​​arise due to love and devotion to people and the objective realities of this world.
- Albert Einstein

Love begins where nothing is expected in return.
- Antoine de Saint-Exupery

The world is so rotten that even falling in love with someone is the biggest risk we can take. We are squeezed from the inside by the possibility that this will not be mutual or aggressively perceived. People have forgotten how to love, consumer relations rule the world.
- Bernard Show

To offend is easier than to forgive.

- Omar Khayyam

Love is a priceless gift. It's the only thing we can give and yet you keep it.
- Lev Tolstoy

Love is the most important thing we can give ourselves and the world around us. Our Love spiritualizes us, fills our life with joy and happiness, and, changing us for the better, raises us to a higher level of perception of ourselves and our reality of life. The physical objects of the material world are the result of our perception. We form structures from energy, which we then recognize as objects and use in our life. The more Love we have, the more harmonious our perception, and the more perfect the world around us will be.
- Maxim Frolov

Real love not the one that endures long years of separation, but the one that endures long years of intimacy.
- Helen Rowland

Our life is just a collection of many small lives, each one day long. And every day you need to live in love and beauty, admiring the flowers and birds, enjoying the moment.
- Nicholas Sparks

Appreciate the people who
able to see three things in you:
The sadness behind the smile...
LOVE behind the anger...
and the REASON for your silence.....

They fall in love not with faces, not with figures - they are just masks, mirages. They fall in love for a long time only with nature, they fall in love with the melodies of the soul.

After all, you fall in love only with someone else's, your own - you love.
- Marina Tsvetaeva

When something blooms inside you, thousands of lotus flowers bloom in you... then you love, you can go through all the difficulties of life. You will be able to overcome all kinds of suffering and vicissitudes of life, and your Love will flourish more and more, because all these situations will become life lessons. Overcoming them, your Love will become stronger. Love is eternity. If it is, it will constantly increase. Love has a beginning but no end.
- Osho

"In order for Love to grow, you need to give it away. A person who does not give away even the little Love that he has, as if holding a handful of seeds in his hand and does not want to sow them."
- Elder Paisius the Holy Mountaineer

Only love makes a person himself.

Woe to him who loved only bodies, forms, appearances! Death will take everything from him. Learn to love Souls and you will find them again.
- Victor Hugo

It is extremely important to learn harmonious communication with wildlife. In order to learn to love the Creator, one must first master love for His Creation with all its creatures. And this cannot be done either in rooms, or in museums or laboratories, or in temples. But in harmonious natural landscapes with an abundance of various manifestations of life - with the right (loving, caring) attitude towards them - this is simple and easy to achieve.
- Vladimir Antonov. Ecopsychology

The more love, wisdom, beauty, kindness you discover in yourself, the more you will notice them in the world around you.
- Mother Teresa

Love is the basis for someone next to you to develop. And in order for your mind to develop, you need to take everything that is connected with love into your heart, and remove everything that does not have love from your life.

Love is the freedom to be yourself next to a person who accepts you as you are and who needs nothing from you except yourself.

Beauty does not cause love, but love makes us see beauty.
- Lev Nikolayevich Tolstoy

Show your love for people wherever possible, and above all - at home. Give love to your children, your wife or husband, your neighbors... Let not a single person leave your life without becoming at least a little better or happier. Become a living expression of the goodness of God. Let people see the kindness shining in your face, in your eyes and in your friendly greeting.
- Mother Teresa

What a great happiness it is to love and be loved.
- A.P. Chekhov

Love is going beyond the limits of one's "I" and merging with the beautiful that is contained in another person.
- Percy Shelley

Good is not the one who looks for weakness in people. And not the one who is looking for beauty. Only the one who gives people joy, radiating simplicity, is good.

Love, and let love be as natural to you as breathing. Don't demand anything. Don't expect anything. If something comes to you, be grateful. If nothing comes, then it doesn't need to come.
- Mother Teresa

Love is the only thing that makes a person stronger, a woman more beautiful, a man kinder, a soul easier, and life more beautiful!
- Friedrich Nietzsche

— Mark Levy

There is no greater force in the universe than power of love. This feeling is the highest frequency you can radiate. If you wrap every thought with love, if you love everything and everyone, your life will change completely.
- Rhonda Byrne

Love heals both those who receive it and those who manifest it.
— Carl Menninger

Never be angry with your mother, do not say words that can upset her or break her loving heart. You only have one, make her happy the way she wanted it for you.
- Mother Teresa

If you have Love then you don't need anything else. If you don't have love, it doesn't matter what else you have.
- Sir J. M. Barry

Love is a tool of knowledge, it brings people together, opens the soul of another to one person, makes it possible to look into the soul of nature, to feel the action of cosmic forces.
- P. D. Uspensky

Sympathy is when you like appearance, falling in love is when you like appearance and character, and love is when you like even flaws.
- Antoine de Saint-Exupery

Personally, I love strawberries with cream, but for some reason fish prefer worms. That's why when I go fishing, I don't think about what I love, but about what the fish loves.
- Dale Carnegie

What are you looking for? Happiness, love, peace of mind. Do not go looking for them on the other side of the earth, you will return disappointed, upset, hopeless. Look for them on the other side of yourself, in the depths of your heart.
- Dalai Lama

A person can come to terms with the thought of his own death, but not with the absence of those he loves.
— Mark Levy

There is no greater power in the universe than the power of love. This feeling is the highest frequency you can radiate. If you wrap every thought with love, if you love everything and everyone, your life will change completely.
- Rhonda Byrne

Nothing paints a person like Love and Joy inside him.

As soon as someone is in your Heart, it doesn't matter how often you see him - you are always and everywhere together. And it does not matter whether you are on the same planet with him, or whether this person is no longer on this planet. What Love has connected - as long as it lasts - nothing will separate. There is only the appearance of separation, and the Heart will always cherish this connection, like a treasure.
- Richard Bach

Love is not for virtues, but in spite of shortcomings.
— William Faulkner

People have forgotten how to love, consumer relations rule the world.
- Bernard Show

It is always easier to destroy than to build.
To offend is easier than to forgive.
And lying is always easier than believing.
And it's much easier to push away than to love.
- Omar Khayyam

The world is so rotten that even falling in love with someone is the biggest risk we can take.
- Bernard Show

Man is born for great Joy, for unceasing creativity, for wide, free, unfettered Love for everything; to the tree, to the sky, to the man, to the sweet, beautiful earth, especially to the earth with its blissful motherhood, with its mornings and nights, with its wonderful daily miracles.
- A.I. Kuprin.

There are women who are only fit for mistresses and nothing else.
- F. M. Dostoevsky, "The Idiot"

You see, in order to turn a woman's head, a man does not have to be a written handsome man.
- Marilyn Monroe.

Modesty in relation to the soul is the same thing as modesty in relation to the body.
- F. Bacon

Nature said to the woman: "be beautiful if you can, wise if you want, but you must be prudent by all means."
- P. Beaumarchais

Maybe you don’t want to hear criticism, but most often we are criticized by those who really love us, who care about us.
— Randy Pausch, "Last Lecture"

There are female souls who are eternally languishing with some sad thirst for love and who themselves never love anyone because of this.
- I. A. Bunin

Purify your path with love. Know how to resist irritation.
- Roerich N.K.

Deciding to have a baby is a big deal. It means deciding that from now on and forever your heart will roam outside your body.
- Elizabeth Stone

We are no longer the same people we were last year, not the same people we love. But it is wonderful if we, while changing, continue to love those who have also changed.
— William Somerset Maugham

Be yourself, learn to be alone - that's all. And remember: a person who knows how to be alone never suffers from loneliness.
- Osho, "Love. Freedom. Loneliness"

Love is a complete fusion of minds, thoughts, souls, interests, and not just bodies. Love is a huge, great feeling, powerful as the world, and not at all lying in bed.
- Alexander Ivanovich Kuprin, "Pit"

Happiness is when you are understood, great happiness is when you are loved, real happiness is when you love.
- Confucius

There is no higher happiness than feeling that you are loved, that your presence brings joy.
— Charlotte Brontë, "Jane Eyre"

After rain always comes a rainbow, after tears - happiness.
- Mother Teresa

Living alone is far better than living among broken promises and fake love.
- Bernard Show

Love is not selective! Selective desire. In love there are no strangers. To see yourself in everyone, and everyone - in yourself - Only this is love ...
- Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj

You can fall in love with beauty, but fall in love- only the soul.
- William Shakespeare

Every gift, even the smallest, becomes a great gift if you give it with love.
— John Walcott

Love sayings

Quotes of famous people about the meaning of life

Favorite scene from "Taras Bulba" ... The mortar plays, or rather lives its role, incredibly convincingly. And Gogol's text is very strong...Maybe this should be celebrated...Our true unity!
And by the word Russian, I mean everyone who speaks Russian, loves Russian culture and sincerely lives for Russia ...

Happy Holidays, Friends!

Under the cut, the full text of Gogol ... Taras Bulba's speech to the Cossack army:

“I would like to tell you, gentlemen, what our partnership is like.
You heard from your fathers and grandfathers in what honor our land was for everyone: it let the Greeks know itself, and took gold coins from Constantinople, and the cities were magnificent, and temples, and princes, princes of the Russian family, their princes, and not Catholic incredulous .
Busurmans took everything, everything was lost.
Only we remained, orphans, yes, like a widow after a strong husband, orphan, just like we, our land!
This is the time when we, comrades, laid a hand on the brotherhood!
That's what our partnership stands for! There is no bond more holy than fellowship!
A father loves his child, a mother loves her child, a child loves his father and mother.
But this is not the case, brothers: even the beast loves its child. But only one person can be related by kinship by soul, and not by blood.
There were comrades in other lands, but there were no such comrades as in the Russian land. It happened to you more than one to disappear in a foreign land; see the people there!
Also a man of God, and you will talk with him as with your own; but when it comes to telling a heartfelt word, you see: no, smart people, but not those; the same people, but not the same!
No, brothers, love like the Russian soul, love not only with the mind or anything else, but with everything that God has given, whatever is in you, but Taras said, and waved his hand, and shook his gray head, and blinked his mustache, and said: No, no one can love like that!
I know that vile things have now begun on our land; they only think that they have stacks of grain, stacks and their horse herds, so that their sealed honey would be intact in the cellars.
They adopt the devil knows what busurman customs; they abhor their tongue; his own does not want to talk to his own; he sells his own, as they sell a soulless creature in a trading market. The mercy of a foreign king, and not even a king, but the foul mercy of a Polish magnate who beats them in the face with his yellow shoe, is dearer to them than any brotherhood.
But the last bastard, whatever he is, even though he was all covered in soot and in worship, there is, brothers, a grain of Russian feeling.
And someday it will wake up, and it will hit, miserable, on the floor with its hands, grab itself by the head, loudly cursing its vile life, ready to atone for the shameful deed with torment.
Let them all know what partnership means in the Russian land! If it comes to that, to die, then none of them will ever die like that! ..
No one, no one! .. They don’t have enough of their mouse nature for that!