“Sure enough, the master of Blagusha had a snug corner here from which to contemplate the world. Even the tiny, splashing waves of life did not reach here, while the great breakers rolled roaring over the roof.”

“Life, my dear Mamselle, can't be reckoned up correctly without cooking the accounts a bit, and our mistake lies in this: that when we grapple with great things, we never take the human coefficient into consideration. All the confusion comes from that...Don't be upset by the coefficient, Mamselle. It contains all the savor and glamor of life. Otherwise every lout would just drink up life to the dregs, and then put a bullet into his brain...Because then his brain would ask for something beyond life...No matter what happens, keep on living, Mamselle. A living human being is, after all, Nature's most beautiful creation.”

“I am a girl of my time... maybe just an ordinary girl, but I am the world's tomorrow... and you should stand up, yes, stand up when you talk to me, if you have a trace of self-respect left!”

“Thousands, if not millions, of people had exchanged life for the negation of life simply so that someone like me could have the pleasure of riding in a taxi. And now thousands more were throwing away their lives in order to try and eliminate global suffering, and they didn't see the senselessness of that, though it screamed out from every page of history and from every street-corner; in the scream you could hear the universal lack of order and lack of satisfaction and all the other shortcomings which were in fact the very essence of life - remove them, do away with them, and what would be left?”

“Look at us, Lazarus, and share our joy. Is there anything stronger than love?"And Lazarus looked. And for the rest of their life they kept on loving each other, but their passion grew gloomy and joyless, like those funeral cypresses whose roots feed on the decay of the graves and whose black summits in a still evening hour seek in vain to reach the sky. Thrown by the unknown forces of life into each other's embraces, they mingled tears with kisses, voluptuous pleasures with pain, and they felt themselves doubly slaves, obedient slaves to life, and patient servants of the silent Nothingness. Ever united, ever severed, they blazed like sparks and like sparks lost themselves in the boundless Dark.”

“Life seemed to him to be a narrow cage, and her iron bars were many and dense, and there was only one way out.”

“I was utterly convinced that an intellectual could never be anything but an intellectual, was simply not capable of being anything else, that his intellectuality would, sooner or later, erode his faith or erode whatever he'd masked it with . . . For example, intellectuals like to dress themselves up as peasants . . . but it never works. The intellectual's constitution is impervious to such things - it permits only one object of worship - oneself. Generally speaking, an intellectual in the contemporary version is an exceptionally resourceful and, essentially, pitiful being.”