“He turned away and offered his hand in parting. She didn't take it or say anything. But from where I was behind the door I could see her face through the crack. I pitied her to see how deathly pale that sweet little face had gone. Hearing no answer, Pechorin took a few steps towards the door. He was trembling, and I might say I think he was fit to do what he'd threatened as a joke. That's the sort of man he was, there was no knowing him.”

“What of it? If I die, I die. It will be no great loss to the world, and I am thoroughly bored with life. I am like a man yawning at a ball; the only reason he does not go home to bed is that his carriage has not arrived yet.”

“Tell me,” she finally whispered, “is it fun for you to torture me? . . . I should really hate you. Ever since we have known each other, you have given me nothing but suffering . . .” Her voice trembled, she leaned toward me, and lowered her head onto my breast.“Perhaps,” I thought, “this is exactly why you loved me: joys are forgotten, but sadness, never . . .”

“Do you know, Princess," said I with a shade of annoyance, "that one should never spurn a repentant sinner, for out of sheer desperation he may become twice as sinful . . . ”

“I know a rock in a highland's ravine,On which only eagles might ever be seen,But a black wooden cross o'er a precipice reigns,It rots and it ages from tempests and rains.And many years have gone without any hints,From times when it was seen from faraway hills.And its every arm is raised up to the sky,As if catching clouds or going to fly.Oh, if I were able to rise there and stay,Then how I'd cry there and how I'd pray;And then I would throw off real life's chainsAnd live as a brother of tempests and rains!”

“My heart was tightening painfully, as it had after our first parting. Oh, how I was glad of this feeling! Could it be that youth wishes to return to me with its wholesome storms, or is this only its departing glance, its last gift, as a keepsake . . . ?”

“It is sad to see a young man's fondest hopes and dreams shattered when the rose-colured veil is plucked away and he sees the actions and feelings of men for what they are. But he still has the hope of replacing his old illusions with others, just as fleeting, but also just as sweet.”