Sketches from a Hunter's Album Quotes

“the deep, pure blue stirs on one’s lips a smile, innocent as itself; like the clouds over the sky, and, as it were, with them, happy memories pass in slow procession over the soul”
― Ivan Sergeevich Turgenev, Sketches from a Hunter's Album

“It’s not for man nor beast to get the better of death. Death doesn’t come running, but you can’t run away from it, neither; nor must you be helping it along.”
― Ivan Turgenev, Sketches from a Hunter's Album: The Complete Edition

“In reality you felt at the same time that he could not be friends, nor be really intimate with anyone, and that he could not be so, not because in general he was independent of other people, but because his whole being was for a time turned inwards upon himself.”
― Ivan Turgenev, Sketches from a Hunter's Album

“Queer things happen in the world: you may live a long while with some people, and be on friendly terms with them, and never once speak openly with them from your soul; with others you have scarcely time to get acquainted, and all at once you are pouring out to him—or he to you—all your secrets, as though you were at confession”
― Ivan Turgenev, Sketches from a Hunter's Album

“...but among us Russians there's no knowing what is sullenness and what is sleepiness.”
― Ivan Turgenev, A Sportman's Sketches

“Hans Stolthed fortog sig ikke. Tvertimod, jo værre hans Sager stillede sig, desto mere anmassende, vigtig og umedgørlig blev han. Tilsidst blev han ligefrem menneskesky.”
― Ivan Turgenjev, Sketches from a Hunter's Album

“… Men kære, kære Herre, hvem af os Mennesker kan vel egentlig hjælpe sin Næste? Hvem kan hjælpe ham saadan, som han ønsker det i sin Sjæls Inderste? Nej, vi maa nok se af hjælpe os selv! De vil maaske ikke tro det, men undertiden, — naar jeg ligger saadan ganske ene, akkurat, ligesom der ikke var andre Mennesker til i Verden end jeg og som jeg var det eneste Levende, saa er det mig tidt og mange Gange, som om En velsignende lagde sin Haand paa mit Hoved ; og saa faar jeg saadanne besynderlige Tanker, ganske besynderlige Tanker…”
― Ivan Turgenjev, Sketches from a Hunter's Album

“[…] Ja, jeg undte mig ikke en Gang den Forestilling, at jeg hengav mig til Ironiens bittersøde Følelse… nej, for vil De sige mig - hvad har en Solo-Ironi at betyde?”
― Ivan Turgenjev, Sketches from a Hunter's Album

“he had a stammer; he called his dog Astronomer; instead of however he used to say howsoever, and he introduced in his own house a French cuisine, the secret of which, according to his cook’s ideas, consisted in completely altering the natural taste of each dish: in the hands of this culinary master meat turned out to be fish, fish became mushrooms, and macaroni ended up dry as powder; moreover, no carrot would be permitted in a soup that had not first assumed a rhomboidal or trapezoidal shape.”
― Ivan Turgenev, Sketches from a Hunter's Album: The Complete Edition

“You lie still and you go on watching: words cannot express the delight and quiet, and how sweet is the feeling that creeps over your heart. You go on watching, and that deep, clear azure brings a smile to your lips as innocent as the azure itself, as innocent as the clouds passing across it, and as if in company with them there passes through your mind a slow cavalcade of happy recollections, and it seems to you that all the while your gaze is travelling farther and farther away and drawing all of you with it into that calm, shining infinity, making it impossible for you to tear yourself away from those distant heights, from those distant depths …”
― Ivan Turgenev, Sketches from a Hunter's Album: The Complete Edition

“For a long while I could find no game; finally, a landrail flew out of an extensive oak thicket which was completely overgrown with wormwood. I fired: the bird turned over in the air and fell. Hearing the shot, Kasyan quickly covered his face with his hand and remained stock-still until I had reloaded my gun and picked up the shot bird. Just as I was preparing to move farther on, he came up to the place where the bird had fallen, bent down to the grass which had been sprinkled with several drops of blood, gave a shake of the head and looked at me in fright. Afterwards I heard him whispering: ‘A sin! ’Tis a sin, it is, a sin!”
― Ivan Turgenev, Sketches from a Hunter's Album: The Complete Edition

“But who are you? Are you out hunting?’ he asked, encompassing me with his glance from head to foot. ‘I’m out hunting.’ ‘You shoot the birds of the air, eh? … And the wild animals of the forest? … Isn’t it sinful you are to be killing God’s own wee birds and spilling innocent blood?”
― Ivan Turgenev, Sketches from a Hunter's Album: The Complete Edition

“The second boy, Pavlusha, had dishevelled black hair, grey eyes, broad cheekbones, a pale, pock-marked complexion, a large but well-formed mouth, an enormous head – as big as a barrel, as they say – and a thick-set, ungainly body. Hardly a prepossessing figure – there’s no denying that! – but I none the less took a liking to him: he had direct, very intelligent eyes and a voice with the ring of strength in it. His clothes gave him no chance of showing off: they consisted of no more than a simple linen shirt and much-patched trousers.”
― Ivan Turgenev, Sketches from a Hunter's Album: The Complete Edition