It is no use to blame the looking glass if your face is awry.
Nikolai GogolThe parental eye shed no tears when the time for leave-taking came; a half-rouble in copper coins was given to the boy by way of pocket-money and for sweets, and what is more important, the following admonition:
"Mind now, Pavlusha, be diligent, don't fool or gad about, and above all please your teachers and superiors. If you please your superiors, then you will be popular and get ahead of everyone even if you lag behind in knowledge and talent. Don't be too friendly with the other boys, they will teach you no good; but if you do make friends, cultivate those who are better off and might be useful. Don't invite or treat anyone, but conduct yourself in such a way as to be treated yourself, and above all, take care of and save your pennies, that is the most reliable of all things. A comrade or friend will cheat you and be the first to put all the blame on you when in a fix, but the pennies won't betray you in any difficulty. With money you can do anything in the world."
Having admonished his son thus, the father took leave of him and trundled off home on his 'magpie'. Though from that day the son never set eyes on him more, his words and admonitions had sunk deep into his soul.
Well, so that's the prosecutor! He lived and lived, and then died! And they will say in the papers that he died to the regret of his staff and all mankind, a respected citizen, a rare father, a model husband, and they will write a lot more stuff and nonsense about him; they will add, maybe, that he was mourned by widows and orphans; but if one were to investigate the matter thoroughly, it will emerge that he had nothing to him except his bushy eyebrows.
Nikolai GogolWherever in life it may be, whether amongst its tough, coarsely poor, and untidily moldering mean ranks, or its monotonously cold and boringly tidy upper classes, a man will at least once meet with a phenomenon which is unlike anything he has happened to see before, which for once at least awakens in him a feeling unlike those he is fated to feel all his life. Wherever, across whatever sorrow sour life is woven of, a resplendent joy will gaily race by, just as a splendid carriage with golden harness, picture-book horses, and a shining brilliance of glass sometimes suddenly and unexpectedly goes speeding by some poor, forsaken hamlet that has never seen anything but a country cart, and for a long time the muzhiks stand gaping open-mouthed, not putting their hats back on, though the wondrous carriage has long since sped away and vanished from sight.
Nikolai GogolThere are occasions when a woman, no matter how weak and impotent in character she may be in comparison with a man, will yet suddenly become not only harder than any man, but even harder than anything and everything in the world.
Nikolai GogolIhm gefiel nicht das, was er las, sondern eher das Lesen an sich, oder besser gesagt, der Prozess des Lesens selbst, wo sich da doch immerzu aus den Buchstaben irgendein Wort ergibt, das manchmal weiß der Teufel was bedeutet. Dieses Lesen wurde gemeinhin im Vorraum auf dem Bett im liegenden Zustand vollzogen, auf der Matratze, die infolge dieses Umstands so hart und fest wie ein Fladen geworden war.
Nikolai GogolStichwörter: translation wolfgang-kasack
Manilov was pleased by these final words, but he still couldn't make sense of the deal itself, and for want of an answer, he began sucking his clay pipe so hard that it started to wheeze like a bassoon. He seemed to be trying to extract from it an opinion about this unprecedented business; but the clay pipe only wheezed and said nothing.
Nikolai GogolStichwörter: gogol-s-overcoat
To the door of an inn in the provincial town of N. there drew up a smart britchka—a light spring-carriage of the sort affected by bachelors, retired lieutenant-colonels, staff-captains, land-owners possessed of about a hundred souls, and, in short, all persons who rank as gentlemen of the intermediate category. In the britchka was seated such a gentleman—a man who, though not handsome, was not ill-favoured, not over-fat, and not over-thin. Also, though not over-elderly, he was not over-young. His arrival produced no stir in the town, and was accompanied by no particular incident, beyond that a couple of peasants who happened to be standing at the door of a dramshop exchanged a few comments with reference to the equipage rather than to the individual who was seated in it. "Look at that carriage," one of them said to the other. "Think you it will be going as far as Moscow?" "I think it will," replied his companion. "But not as far as Kazan, eh?" "No, not as far as Kazan." With that the conversation ended. Presently, as the britchka was approaching the inn, it was met by a young man in a pair of very short, very tight breeches of white dimity, a quasi-fashionable frockcoat, and a dickey fastened with a pistol-shaped bronze tie-pin. The young man turned his head as he passed the britchka and eyed it attentively; after which he clapped his hand to his cap (which was in danger of being removed by the wind) and resumed his way. On the vehicle reaching the inn door, its occupant found standing there to welcome him the polevoi, or waiter, of the establishment—an individual of such nimble and brisk movement that even to distinguish the character of his face was impossible. Running out with a napkin in one hand and his lanky form clad in a tailcoat, reaching almost to the nape of his neck, he tossed back his locks, and escorted the gentleman upstairs, along a wooden gallery, and so to the bedchamber which God had prepared for the gentleman's reception. The said bedchamber was of quite ordinary appearance, since the inn belonged to the species to be found in all provincial towns—the species wherein, for two roubles a day, travellers may obtain a room swarming with black-beetles, and communicating by a doorway with the apartment adjoining. True, the doorway may be blocked up with a wardrobe; yet behind it, in all probability, there will be standing a silent, motionless neighbour whose ears are burning to learn every possible detail concerning the latest arrival. The inn's exterior corresponded with its interior. Long, and consisting only of two storeys, the building had its lower half destitute of stucco; with the result that the dark-red bricks, originally more or less dingy, had grown yet dingier under the influence of atmospheric changes. As for the upper half of the building, it was, of course, painted the usual tint of unfading yellow. Within, on the ground floor, there stood a number of benches heaped with horse-collars, rope, and sheepskins; while the window-seat accommodated a sbitentshik[1], cheek by jowl with a samovar[2]—the latter so closely resembling the former in appearance that, but for the fact of the samovar possessing a pitch-black lip, the samovar and the sbitentshik might have been two of a pair.
Nikolai GogolRusijo!Rusijo!Vidim te iz svoje čudesne,divne daljine,vidim te: sve je jadno,razbacano i neudobno u tebi;ne vesele niti plaše pogled na tvoja smiona čuda prirode okrunjena smionim čudima umjetnosti,gradovi u kojima se dižu visoki dvorci s mnogobrojnim prozorima urasli u stijene,slikovito drveće i bršljan urastao u kuće,usred vječitog šuma i vodene prašine slapova...Široko je,pusto i ravno sve u tebi;kao točke,kao oznake,neupadljivo strše usred ravnice tvoji niski gradovi;ništa neće čovjeka oduševiti ni očarati mu pogled.Ali koja me to nepojmljiva,tajna sila vuče tebi?Zašto mi se neprekidno odjekuje i razliježe se u ušima tvoja čeznutljiva pjesma što se ori u tebi uzduž i poprijeko,od jednog mora do drugog? Što je unjoj,u toj pjesmi? Što me to u njoj zove,i jeca,i dira samo u srce?Koji me to zvuci bolno miluju,i u dušu mi prodiru,i viju mi se oko srca?Rusijo!Što hoćeš od mene?Kakva se to nedokučiva veza krije među nama?Što me tako gledaš,i zašto je sve u tebi uprlo oči pune nade u mene...Neće li se baš ovdje u tebi roditi beskrajna misao kad tebi samoj nema kraja?Oh,kakva je blisatva,čudesna ta daljina o kojoj svijet ništa ne zna!Rusijo!...
Nikolai GogolBut there is nothing enduring in the world, and therefore even joy in the second minute is already not as acute as in the first; in the third minute it becomes still weaker and finally merges unnoticeably with the usual condition of the soul, as a circle on the water, caused by the fall of a pebble, finally merges with the smooth surface.
Nikolai GogolStichwörter: life happiness time sadness joy
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