The Lady With the Little Dog and Other Stories, 1896-1904 Quotes

“He had two lives: one, open, seen and known by all who cared to know, full of relative truth and of relative falsehood, exactly like the lives of his friends and acquaintances; and another life running its course in secret. And through some strange, perhaps accidental, conjunction of circumstances, everything that was essential, of interest and of value to him, everything in which he was sincere and did not deceive himself, everything that made the kernel of his life, was hidden from other people.”
― Anton Chekhov, The Lady With the Little Dog and Other Stories, 1896-1904

“And only now, when he was gray-haired, had he fallen in love properly, thoroughly, for the first time in his life.”
― Anton Chekhov, The Lady With the Little Dog and Other Stories, 1896-1904

“He always seemed to women different from what he was, and they loved in him not himself, but the man created by their imagination, whom they had been eagerly seeking all their lives; and afterwards, when they noticed their mistake, they loved him all the same.”
― Anton Chekhov, The Lady With the Little Dog and Other Stories, 1896-1904

“Useless pursuits and conversations always about the same things absorb the better part of one's time, the better part of one's strength, and in the end there is left a life grovelling and curtailed, worthless and trivial, and there is no escaping or getting away from it—just as though one were in a madhouse or prison.”
― Anton Chekhov, The Lady With the Little Dog and Other Stories, 1896-1904

“My thoughts about human happiness, for some peculiar reason, had always been tinged with a certain sadness.”
― Anton Chekhov, The Lady With the Little Dog and Other Stories, 1896-1904

“العقل بالطبع شيء غير خالد بل زائل، ولكنك تعلم الآن لماذا أشعر بالميل إليه، فالحياة فخ محزن وعندما يحقق الشخص المفكّر فرصته ويبلغ وعيه درجة النضج يحس نفسه -لا إراديًا- كأنه وقع في فخ لا مهرب منه. وبالفعل فقد جاء إلى الحياة من العدم على الرغم من إرادته بفعل عوامل عارضة، فلماذا؟! إنه يريد أن يعرف مغزى وجوده وهدفه فلا يقال له أو تقال له حماقات، ويدق الباب فلا يفتح له أحد، ويأتيه الموت أيضًا على الرغم من إرادته. وهكذا كما في السجن عندما يشعر الأشخاص الذين جمعتهم المأساة المشتركة بنوع من الإرتياح عندما يجتمعون معا، كذلك الحياة؛ لا يحس الأشخاص الميالون إلى التحليل والتعميم بوجود الفخ عندما يجتمعون معًا ويقضون الوقت في تبادل الأفكار الحرة الأبية! وبهذا المعنى يُعتبر العقل متعة لا بديل لها .”
― Anton Chekhov, السيدة صاحبة الكلب وقصص أخرى

“أن ترى وتسمع كيف يكذبون، ثم يرمونك انت بالغباء لأنك تطيق هذا الكذب. أن تتحمل الإهانات والإذلال دون ان تجرؤ على الإعلان صراحة انك في صف الشرفاءالأحرار، بل تكذب انت نفسك وتبتسم وكل ذلك من اجل لقمة العيش، من أجل ركن دافئ، من أجل وظيفة حقيرة لا تساوي قرشا .. كلا حياة كهذه لم تعد محتملة !”
― Anton Chekhov, السيدة صاحبة الكلب وقصص أخرى

“The leaves did not stir on the trees, cicadas twanged, and the monotonous muffled sound of the sea that rose from below spoke of the peace, the eternal sleep awaiting us. So it rumbled below when there was no Yalta, no Oreanda here; so it rumbles now, and it will rumble as indifferently and as hollowly when we are no more. And in this constancy, in this complete indifference to the life and death of each of us, there lies, perhaps a pledge of our eternal salvation, of the unceasing advance of life upon earth, of unceasing movement towards perfection. Sitting beside a young woman who in the dawn seemed so lovely, Gurov, soothed and spellbound by these magical surroundings - the sea, the mountains, the clouds, the wide sky - thought how everything is really beautiful in this world when one reflects: everything except what we think or do ourselves when we forget the higher aims of life and our own human dignity.”
― Anton Chekhov, The Lady With the Little Dog and Other Stories, 1896-1904

“ما هذه الليالي التي بلا معنى وأي أيام مملة باهتة ! اللعب المحموم والأكل حتى التخمة والسٌكْر والأحاديث المكررة عن نفس الشيء. الأعمال التي لا ضرورة لها والأحاديث المكررة تستولى على أفضل ساعات العمر وعلى أفضل القوى ولا يبقى في النهاية سوى حياة مبتورة، مقصوصة الجناحين، لا يبقى سوى هراء ولا تستطيع ان تهرب منه أو تفر، كأنما وضعت في مستشفى المجانين أو في السجن.”
― Anton Chekhov, السيدة صاحبة الكلب وقصص أخرى

“How fortunate Buddha, Mahomed, and Shakespeare were that their kind relations and doctors did not cure them of their ecstasy and their inspiration”
― Anton Chekhov, The Lady with the Dog and Other Stories

“إن التعاليم التي تدعو إلى تجاهل الثروة وملذات الحياة واحتقار الآلام والموت ليست مفهومة ابدا للأغلبية الساحقة ، لأن الغالبية لم تعرف قط لا الثروة ولا ملذات الحياة. أما احتقار الآلام فيعني بالنسبة إليها احتقار الحياة نفسها لأن جوهر الإنسان كله يقوم على احاسيس الجوع والبرد والإهانات والخسائر والخوف الهاملتي من الموت. الحياة كلها في هذه الأحاسيس. يمكنك ان تشقى بالحياة وتمقتها ولكن لا تحتقرها.”
― Anton Chekhov, السيدة صاحبة الكلب وقصص أخرى

“At Oreanda they sat on a beach not far from the church, looked down at the sea, and were silent. Yalta was barely visible through the morning mist; white clouds rested motionlessly on the mountaintops. The leaves did not stir on the trees, cicadas twanged, and the monotonous muffled sound of the sea that rose from below spoke of the peace, the eternal sleep awaiting us. So it rumbled below when there was no Yalta, no Oreanda here; so it rumbles now, and it will rumble as indifferently and as hollowly when we are no more. And in this constancy, in this complete indifference to the life and death of each of us, there lies, perhaps, a pledge of our eternal salvation, of the unceasing advance of life upon earth, of unceasing movement towards perfection.”
― Anton Chekhov, The Lady With the Little Dog and Other Stories, 1896-1904

“It's obvious that the happy man feels contented only because the unhappy ones bear their burden without saying a word: if it weren't for their silence, happiness would be quiet impossible. It's a kind of mass hypnosis”
― Anton Chekhov, The Lady With the Little Dog and Other Stories, 1896-1904

“And in this constancy, in this complete indifference to the life and death of each of us, there lies hid, perhaps, a pledge of our eternal salvation, of the unceasing movement of life upon earth, of unceasing progress towards perfection.”
― Anton Chekhov, The Lady With the Little Dog and Other Stories, 1896-1904

“How open, how free, how still it is here!" thought Kovrin, walking along the path. "And it feels as though all the world were watching me, hiding and waiting for me to understand it. . . .”
― Anton Chekhov, The Lady with the Dog and Other Stories

“One is shy of asking men under sentence what they have been sentenced for; and in the same way it is awkward to ask very rich people what they want so much money for, why they make such a poor use of their wealth, why they don't give it up, even when they see in it their unhappiness; and if they begin a conversation about it themselves, it is usually embarrassing, awkward, and long.”
― Anton Chekhov, The Lady with the Dog and Other Stories

“Forgiven? No. I am a bad, low woman; I despise myself and don't attempt to justify myself. It's not my husband but myself I have deceived. And not only just now; I have been deceiving myself for a long time.”
― Anton Chekhov, The Lady with the Dog and Other Stories

“I yearned for mental tranquility, health, fresh air, good food. I was becoming a dreamer, and, like a dreamer, I did not know exactly what I wanted.”
― Anton Chekhov, The Lady with the Dog and Other Stories

“But is eternal truth of use to man and within his reach, if there is no eternal life?” “There is eternal life,” said the monk.”
― Anton Chekhov, The Lady with the Dog and Other Stories

“Lonely people read a great deal, but say little and hear little. Life for them is mysterious; they are mystics and often see the devil where he is not.”
― Anton Chekhov, The Lady with the Dog and Other Stories

“He always seemed to women different from what he was, and they loved in him not himself, but the man created by their imagination, whom they had been eagerly seeking all their lives;”
― Anton Chekhov, The Lady with the Dog and Other Stories

“Experience often repeated, truly bitter experience, had taught him long ago that with decent people, especially Moscow people—always slow to move and irresolute—every intimacy, which at first so agreeably diversifies life and appears a light and charming adventure, inevitably grows into a regular problem of extreme intricacy, and in the long run the situation becomes unbearable. But at every fresh meeting with an interesting woman this experience seemed to slip out of his memory, and he was eager for life, and everything seemed simple and amusing.”
― Anton Chekhov, The Lady with the Dog and Other Stories

“I have been all day thinking of a legend," he said. "I don't remember whether I have read it somewhere or heard it, but it is a strange and almost grotesque legend. To begin with, it is somewhat obscure. A thousand years ago a monk, dressed in black, wandered about the desert, somewhere in Syria or Arabia. . . . Some miles from where he was, some fisherman saw another black monk, who was moving slowly over the surface of a lake. This second monk was a mirage. Now forget all the laws of optics, which the legend does not recognise, and listen to the rest. From that mirage there was cast another mirage, then from that other a third, so that the image of the black monk began to be repeated endlessly from one layer of the atmosphere to another. So that he was seen at one time in Africa, at another in Spain, then in Italy, then in the Far North. . . . Then he passed out of the atmosphere of the earth, and now he is wandering all over the universe, still never coming into conditions in which he might disappear. Possibly he may be seen now in Mars or in some star of the Southern Cross. But, my dear, the real point on which the whole legend hangs lies in the fact that, exactly a thousand years from the day when the monk walked in the desert, the mirage will return to the atmosphere of the earth again and will appear to men. And it seems that the thousand years is almost up . . . . According to the legend, we may look out for the black monk to-day or to-morrow.”
― Anton Chekhov, The Lady with the Dog and Other Stories

“The sunlight and the sounds told him that somewhere in this world there is a pure, refined, poetical life. But where was it?”
― Anton Chekhov, The Lady with the Dog and Other Stories

“The more highly a man is developed on the intellectual and moral side, the more independent he is, the more pleasure life gives him. Socrates, Diogenes, and Marcus Aurelius, were joyful, not sorrowful. And the Apostle tells us: 'Rejoice continually'; 'Rejoice and be glad.”
― Anton Chekhov, The Lady with the Dog and Other Stories

“IT was said that a new person had appeared on the sea-front: a lady with a little dog.”
― Anton Chekhov, The Lady with the Dog and Other Stories

“But it is difficult to strike a match against a crumbling stone.”
― Anton Chekhov, The Lady with the Dog and Other Stories

“An old man of sixty, in a long fur coat reaching to the ground, and a beaver cap, was standing at the door.”
― Anton Chekhov, The Lady with the Dog and Other Stories

“Such women imagine that they will be in love for ever, and abandon themselves with tragic intensity.”
― Anton Chekhov, The Lady with the Dog and Other Stories

“It’s much more honest to deceive a man than to break up his family life and injure his reputation. I understand.”
― Anton Chekhov, The Lady with the Dog and Other Stories