Status Updates From A Hero of Our Time (Oneworl...

"What is your name, my nightingale?"
"Whoever named me knows."
"And who named you?"
"How should I know?"

Never had I seen a woman like her. She was far from beautiful, though I have my preconceived notions as regards beauty as well. There was much of the thoroughbred in her, and in women as in horses that is a great thing;

It was chilly, and, not having slept for three nights running, I was exhausted and began to lose my
temper. "Take me anywhere you want, you scoundrel! To the devil, if you please, as long as there's a place to stay!" I shouted.

Some readers will probably want to know what I think of Pechorin’s character. My reply may be found in the title of this book. "But that is bitter irony!" they will say. I do not know.

For we nearly always forgive that which we understand.