Lucky’s Reviews > A Hero of Our Time > Status Update

And to think that I still look like a boy; though my face is pale, it is still fresh, my limbs are supple and graceful, my locks thick and curly, eyes flashing, and my blood courses swiftly through the veins. . .

Yes, I have already passed that period of
spiritual life when people seek happiness alone and when the heart must needs love someone passionately; now I only want to be loved, and then only by very few. As a matter of fact, I believe one constant attachment would suffice for me—a wretched sentimental habit!

"Tell me," she whispered at last, "does it give you so much pleasure to torment me? I ought to hate you. Ever since we have known each other you have brought me nothing but pain. . . . " Her voice shook, and she leaned towards me resting her head on my breast.

"Perhaps," I thought, "that is why you loved me, for joy is forgotten, but sorrow never. . . . "

I do not want to extract any confessions from him; I want him to make me his confidant by his own choice—and that's when I am going to enjoy myself. . .

If you do not gain the ascendancy over her, even
her first kiss will not give you the right to a second. She will flirt with you to her heart's content and a year or two later marry an ugly beast in obedience to her mother's will; then she will begin to assure you that she is unhappy, that she had loved only one man—that is, you.

Every remembrance of a past sorrow or joy sends a pang through my heart and invariably strikes the very same chords. I am stupidly constituted, for I forget nothing—nothing!

"As for me, I am convinced of only one thing . . ." said the doctor. "And what is that?" I asked, wishing to hear the opinion of a man who had been silent till then.

"That some fine morning sooner or later I shall die," he replied. "I am better off than you," said I. "I have another conviction besides, which is that one exceedingly foul night I had the misfortune to be born."

We soon understood each other and became
companions—for I am incapable of friendship. Between two friends one is always the slave of the other, though frequently neither will admit it; the slave I cannot be, and to dominate is an arduous task since one must employ deception as well;
besides, I have the servants and the money!

I have an inborn urge to contradict; my whole life has been a mere chain of sad and futile opposition to the dictates of either heart or reason.

The presence of an enthusiast makes me as cold as a midwinter's day, and I believe frequent association with a listless phlegmatic would make me an impassioned dreamer.

Grushnitsky has a reputation for superb
courage; I have seen him in action: he brandishes his sabre, and dashes forward shouting with his eyes shut. There is something very un-Russian in that brand of gallantry!