Oblomov Quotes

When you don't know what you're living for, you don't care how you live from one day to the next. You're happy the day has passed and the night has come, and in your sleep you bury the tedious question of what you lived for that day and what you're going to live for tomorrow.

A close, daily intimacy between two people has to be paid for: it requires a great deal of experience of life, logic, and warmth of heart on both sides to enjoy each other’s good qualities without being irritated by each other’s shortcomings and blaming each other for them.

Now or neverI 'To be or not to be!'"—Oblomov raised himself from his chair a little, but failing to find his slippers with his feet at once, sat down again.

Memories are the height of poetry only when they are memories of happiness. When they graze wounds over which scars have formed they become an aching pain.

Love was life's hardest school of all.

Memories are either the greatest poetry, when they are memories of a vital happiness, or a burning pain, when they touch dried wounds. p. 479

Yesterday one has wished, to-day one attains the madly longed-for object, and to-morrow one will blush to think that one ever desired it.

What? Do you suppose the intellect can work separately from the heart?

Yes, and I think I will have enough strength to live and love my whole life through. One without the other is impossible. p. 265

Aşk bir ruh kangreni; o kadar çabuk ilerliyor ki.

I began life with a quenching of the light of day, and, from the first moment that I realized myself, realized also that I was on the wane.

Life is duty and obligation, therefore love, too, is a duty. It's as if God sent it to me,' she said, looking up at the sky, 'and told me to love.' p. 265

But what was he to do? Stay where he was or move on? This Oblomovian question was for him of even deeper significance than Hamlet’s ‘to be or not to be’.

Now or never. To be or not to be!” Oblomov rose from his chair, but, failing at once to insert his foot into a slipper, sat down again.

When all the forces in your organism come into play, then life will begin to play around you as well. You'll see what your eyes are closed to now, and you'll hear what you've never heard. The music of your nerves will begin to play, you'll hear the music of the spheres, and you'll listen to the grass grow. Just wait, there's no hurry. It will come in its own time! p. 257

Although people call love a capricious and unaccountable emotion that arises like an illness, nonetheless it has its own laws and reasons, like everything else. If these laws have been little studied so far, that is because a person struck down by love is in no condition to observe with a scholar's eye as the impression steals into his soul and shackles his emotions like a dream, as first his eyes go blind, at which moment his pulse and then his heart begin beating harder, all of a sudden there arises as of yesterday an undying devotion, the desire to sacrifice oneself; one's I gradually vanishes and crosses over into him or her; the mind becomes wither unusually dull or unusually sharp; the will surrenders to the will of another; and the head bows, the knees shake and the tears and fever come.

The common herd of "burghers", those cattle, complete with horns, who turn millstones with their bare hands.

It is the trick of dishonest people to offer sacrifices that are not needed or cannot be made so as to avoid making those that are required.

But in love, merit is won blindly and unaccountably, and in this blindness and unaccountability lies happiness. pp. 445-446

Now or never. To be or not to be!” Oblomov rose from his chair, but, failing at once to insert his foot into a slipper, sat down again.

Lying down was not for Oblomov a necessity, as it is for a sick man or for a man who is sleepy; or a matter of chance, as it is for a man who is tired; or a pleasure, as it is for a lazy man: it was his normal condition.

She never indulged in reveries or tried to be clever in her conversation; she seemed to have drawn a line in her mind beyond which she never went. It was quite obvious that feelings, every kind of relationship, including love, entered into her life on equal terms with everything else, while in the case of other women love quite manifestly takes part, if not in deeds, then in words, in all the problems of life, and everything else is allowed in only in so far as love leaves room for it. The thing this woman esteemed most was the art of living, of being able to control oneself, of keeping a balance between thought and intention, intention and realization. You could never take her unawares, by surprise, but she was like a watchful enemy whose expectant gaze would always be fixed on you, however hard you tried to lie in wait for him. High society was her element, and therefore tact and caution prompted her every thought, word, and movement.

You have a lunatic before you who has been infected by passion.

She attended the French performance, but the play's content now had a connection to her life. She read a book and the book invariably had lines with sparks from her mind, the fire of her emotions flickered here and there, and words spoken the night before were written down, as if the author had overheard how her heart beat. The forest held the same trees, but their sound had taken on special meaning; she had established a vibrant consonance with them. The birds did not simply twitter and chirp but were saying something to each other. Everything around her spoke and responded to her mood; a flower would blossom and she seemed to hear its breathing. pp. 256-257

Kim demiş hayat zevk ve mutluluktur. Ne saçma düşünce! Hayat hayattır, bir ödevdir, ödev dediğin de çetin bir iştir. O halde ödevimizi yapalım…

Hatıralar mutlu bir hayatın hatıraları olursa güzeldir; insana güç kapanmış yaraları hatırlatınca acı şeylerdir.

Ancak dürüst olmayan insanlar kendilerinden istenen şeyi yapmamak için istenmeyen ve yapılmayacak fedakarlıklardan söz ederler.

Baharda günler uzayınca yine herkes şaşar ve sevinir. Ama bu uzun günlerin ne işlerine yaradığını sorsanız kimse cevap veremez.

Onun düşünceleri ve niyetleri bir başka başkasının yardımı olmadan gelişemiyordu. Tıpkı kendiliğinden olup yere düşmeyen elmalar gibi.

for, as every one knows, dogs cannot with equanimity see a human being running.

No one else would have said such a thing seeing a woman for the third time in his life; and no one would have fallen in love so soon. Only an Oblomov could...

But what is going on there?' 'Oblomovism!' Andrey answered gloomily

Now or never! To be or not to be!" Oblomov raised himself from his chair a little, but failing to find his slippers with his feet at once, sat down again.

Well, my dear, you are more of an Oblomov than I am

Why am I like this?' Oblomov asked himself almost with tears, and hid his head under the blanket again.

When you don’t know what you’re living for, you don’t care how you live from one day to the next. You’re happy the day has passed and the night has come, and in your sleep you bury the tedious question of what you lived for that day and what you’re going to live for tomorrow.

Canlı, hareketli bir ruh bazen hayatın sınırlarını aşar, tatmin edilemez olur; bu yüzden umutsuzluğa düşer, bir an için hayata küser; bu hal, hayatın sınırlarını arayan ruhun sıkıntısıdır.

İşini ve dışarı hayatını bırakınca Oblomov hayatın anlamını başka yerde aramaya başladı. Ömrünü nasıl harcayacağını uzun uzun düşündü; sonunda kendi kendine yaşamakla yeterince iş göreceği kanısına vardı.

The moments of nature's universal, triumphant silence had come, those minutes when the creative mind works harder, poetic thoughts seethe more ardently, the heart's passion blazes more brightly and its longing aches more painfully, the grain of criminal thought ripens in a cruel soul more imperturbably and powerfully.

Bu ne iştir? Demek aşk da geçiyor. Bense öyle sanıyordum ki aşıkların hayatı sıcak bir öğle vakti gibi rüzgarsız, hareketsizdir. Halbuki sevgide de rahat yok. O da değişiyor, durmadan değişiyor... Bütün hayat gibi.

Because he possesses something that is worth more than any amount of intelligence - an honest and faithful heart! It is the matchless treasure that he has carried through his life unharmed. People knocked him down, he grew indifferent and, at last, dropped asleep, crushed, disappointed, having lost the strength to live; but he has not lost his honesty and faithfulness. His heart has never struck a single false note; there is no stain on his character. No well-dressed-up lie has ever deceived him and nothing will lure him from the true path. A regular ocean of evil and baseless may be surging around him, the entire world may be poisoned and turned upside down - Oblomov will never bow down to the idol of falsehood, and his soul will always be pure, noble, honest ... His soul is translucent, clear as crystal. Such people are rare; there aren't many of them; they are like pearls in a crowd! His heart cannot be bribed; he can be relied on always and anywhere. It is to this you have remained faithful, and that is why nothing I do for him will ever be a burden to me. I have known lots of people possessing high qualities, but never have I met a heart more pure, more noble, and more simple. I have loved many people, but no one so warmly and so firmly as Oblomov. Once you know him, you cannot stop loving him. Isn't that so? Am I right?

A lover of comfort might shrug after looking at the whole apparent jumble of furniture, old paintings, statues with missing arms and legs, engravings that were sometimes bad but precious in memory, and bric-a-brac. Only the eye of a connoisseur would have blazed with eagerness at the sight of this painting or that, some book yellowed with age, a piece of old porcelain, or stones and coins. But the furniture and paintings of different ages, the bric-a-brac that meant nothing to anyone but had been marked for them both by a happy hour or memorable moment, and the ocean of books and sheet music breathed a warm life that oddly stimulated the mind and aesthetic sense. Present everywhere was vigilant thought. The beauty of human effort shone here, just as the eternal beauty of nature shone all around. pp. 492-493

Ya ben yaşadığım hayatı anlayamadım ya da bu hayatın hiçbir değeri yoktu. Daha iyisini de bulamadım,göremedim,kimse de göstermedi. Sen bir gelip bir kayboluyordun,tıpkı parlak,hızlı bir kuyruklu yıldız gibi. Bense her şeyi unutuyor,ağır ağır sönüyordum.

Ah! This is retribution for Promethean fire! Besides being patient, you must also love this sadness and respect your doubts and questions. They are an abundant excess, a luxury of life, and they appear more at the summits of happiness, when you have no crude desires. They are not born in the midst of mundanity. They have no place where there is grief and want. The masses go along without knowing the fog of doubts or the anguish of questions. But for anyone who has encountered them at the right time they are dear visitors, not a hammer.' 'But there's no coping with them. They bring anguish and indifference to nearly everything.' she added indecisively. 'But for how long? Afterward they refresh life,' he said. 'They lead to an abyss from which nothing can be gained, and they force you to look again at life, with even greater love. They summon up your tested powers to struggle with it, as if expressly to let them sleep afterward.' 'This fog and these specters torment me!' she complained. 'Everything is bright and all of a sudden a sinister shadow is cast over life! Are there no means against this?' 'What do you mean? Your buttress is in life! Without it, life is sickening, even without any questions!' p. 508

Bir gün bir şeyi istersin, ertesi gün tutkuyla, ölesiye ona bağlanırsın, daha ertesi gün onu istediğinden utanırsın, arzun yerine geldiği için hayata lanet edersin. İşte insan hayatta kendi isteğinin peşinden serbestçe giderse böyle olur. Bastığımız yeri yoklayarak yürümeliyiz; bazı şeylerden gözlerimizi çevirmeliyiz, mutluluk hülyalarına kapılmamalıyız, mutluluk elimizden kaçarsa isyan etmemeliyiz; hayat budur işte...

Who laid the curse on you, Ilya? What have you done? You are kind, intelligent, affectionate, noble...and...you are...doomed! What has ruined you? There is no name for that devil...' 'Yes, there is.' he whispered almost inaudibly. She looked at him questioningly, with her eyes full of tears. 'Oblomovism!' he whispered

Amacına doğru yürürken engelleri cüretle aşar ve ancak önüne aşılmaz bir duvar veya bir uçurum çıkarsa geri dönerdi. Gözlerini kapayıp uçuruma atılmak ya da belki deviririm diye duvara saldırmak onun harcı değildi. Duvarı veya uçurumu ölçer, biçer, hakkından gelemeyeceğinden emin olursa, kim ne derse desin sırtını döner giderdi.

He had never clearly fathomed the true weight of a word of good, truth, and purity cast in the stream of human speech and the deep bend it cut in it. Nor had he thought that a word spoken boldly and loudly, with no hint of false shame, but rather with courage, that this word would not drown in the ugly cries of fashionable satyrs but would plunge like a pearl into the abyss of public life and always find itself a shell. Many stumble over a good word, blushing in embarrassment, and utter a careless word boldly and loudly, never suspecting that it, too, unfortunately, will not go for naught but will leave a long trail of often times ineradicable evil. p. 296

Do you think that to express ideas one doesn't need a heart? One does need it - they are rendered fruitful by love; stretch out a helping hand to the fallen man to raise him, or shed bitter tears over him, if he faces ruin, but do not jeer at him. Love him, remember that he is a man like you, and deal with him as if he were yourself.

Plunged up to the ears in work, good friend!" thought Oblomov as he watched him depart. "Yes, and blind and deaf and dumb to everything else in the world! Yet by going into society and, at the same time, busying yourself about your affairs you will yet win distinction and promotion. Such is what they call 'a career'! Yet of how little use is a man like that! His intellect, his will, his feelings--what do they avail him? So many luxuries is what they are--nothing more. Such an individual lives out his little span without achieving a single thing worth mentioning; and meanwhile he works in an office from morning till night--yes, from morning till night, poor wretch!

Erkeğe gerçeklerin apaçık gösterilmesi gereken yerde, kadına hafif bir rüzgâr, işitilmez bir hava ürpermesi yeter.

İstemem denizi, eksik olsun; onun sakinliği, hareketsizliği bile insanı rahatsız eder.

Hayatı, hiç kimse farkında olmadan o kadar sessizce dolmuştu ki kendi köşesinde, kimseye heyecanlarını, tasalarını göstermeden yaşıyordu.

Ведь случайности, хоть бы и выгоды какие-нибудь, беспокойны: они требуют хлопот, забот, беготни, не посиди на месте, торгуй или пиши - словом, поворачивайся, шутка ли!

there has never been a flame burning in my life, either to save or to destroy me!

Tomorrow there is sure to be a letter from the country" he thought with a beating heart... "At last!

It's hard and complicated to live simply!

I have loved you: it's an insult!

And this child is my son! He is called Andrey in memory of you!

Don't forget my Andrey when I am gone!

Oh, if only the same fire that burns in me now would burn tomorrow and always! But if you are not here it fades and I sink!

Воспоминания — один только стыд и рвание волос.

Belki olgunluk çağına geldin; o çağda insana artık büyümez olur; çözülecek hiçbir düğüm kalmaz, hayat apaçık önümüze serilir.

Dostluk genç bir kadınla genç bir erkek arasında aşk olmadığı zaman ya da ihtiyarlar arasında bir aşk anısına dönüştüğü zaman iyi bir şeydir.

Elveda benim cennetim! Benim sakin, ışıklı hayat idealim...

Dér har vi en hæderlig sjæl, et rigtig vaskeægte får, og tror du, han skriver naturligt? Aldeles ikke. Men hans slægtning, han kan skrive, for han er et bæst og en svinepels.

Bütün bunları göklerden yeryüzüne günahlarımız yüzünden gönderilmiş bir ceza saymıştı.

Hatıralar - ya canlı bir mutluluğun hatıraları oldukları zaman, büyük bir şiir gibi oldukları zaman ya da kapanmamış bir yaraya değdikleri zaman yakıcı bir ağrı oluyor...

One can easily imagine his disappointment when he discovered that nothing short of an earthquake could prevent a civil servant who was in good health from turning up at his office. . .

Yaşamın baharını sabırsızca üzerlerinden atıyorlardı; hatta birçoğu ömürleri boyunca karılarına, sanki bir vakit onları sevme aptallığına düştükleri için pişman olmuş gibi gözucuyla bakıyordu.

Istırabına sabırla katlanırdı çünkü nedenini başkalarınnnda değil, kendinde arardı. Sevinçleri de yoldan çiçek toplar gibi koparır ve daha solmadan atardı; böylece her zevkin dibindeki acı tortuyu tatmazdı.

these fond parents were not blind to the value of education it was that they realized only its external value. That is to say, they could not look beyond the fact that education enabled folk to get on in the world so far as the acquisition of rank, crosses, and money was concerned. Certain evil rumours had arisen regarding the necessity of learning not only one's letters, but also various branches of science which until now had remained unknown to the world of Oblomovka; but, as I say, the good folk of that place had only the dimmest, the remotest, comprehension of any internal demand for education, and therefore desired to secure for their little Ilya only certain showy advantages, and no more--to wit, a fine uniform, and the getting of him into the Civil Service (his mother even foresaw him become a provincial governor!).

Sono furbe e giocano d'astuzia solo le donne più o meno limitate. Mancando loro l'intelligenza pura e semplice, muovono le leve della vita spicciola, quotidiana, per mezzo dell'astuzia, e intrecciano come un merletto la loro politica domestica, senza accorgersi di come si dispongano attorno a loro le linee principali della vita, senza capire a cosa tendano e dove s'incontreranno. L'astuzia è una moneta spicciola con cui non si compra molto. Come di spiccioli si può vivere un'ora o due, così l'astuzia può servire a dissimulare qualcosa, ingannare, alterare qua e là, ma non basta per abbracciare l'orizzonte lontano, per dominare dall'inizio alla fine un grande, importante avvenimento. L'astuzia è miope: vede bene solo quel che ha sotto il naso, ma non vede lontano, e perciò finisce spesso per cadere nella trappola che aveva teso agli altri.

Lying down was not for Ilya Ilyitch either a necessity as it is for a sick or a sleepy man, or an occasional need as it is for a person who is tired, or a pleasure as it is for a sluggard: it was his normal state.

Başka bir yaşamı istemiyor, sevmiyorlardı. Eğer koşullar onları sahip oldukları yaşam tarzlarını değiştirmeye sürükleseydi üzülürlerdi. Eğer yarın bugüne, bir sonraki gün de yarına benzemeyecek olsa üzüntüden perişan olurlardı.

he was as intelligent as other people, his soul was pure and clear as crystal ; he was noble and affectionate and yet he did nothing !” “But why? What was the reason?” “The reason . . . what reason was there? Oblomovism!” Stolz said. "Oblomovism?” the writer repeated in perplexity. “What’s that?” “I’ll tell you directly: let me collect my thoughts and memories. And you write it down: it may be of use to someone.” And he told him what is written here.

Ilya Ilyitch hardly noticed how Zahar undressed him, took off his boots, and threw over his shoulders his dressing-gown. 'What is it?' was all he asked, looking at the dressing-gown. 'The landlady brought it today; it has been washed and mended,' Zahar said.

To think that just when one's happiness is full to overflowing, and one is thoroughly in love with life, there should come upon one a taint of sorrow!" she murmured. Yes; such is the payment exacted for the Promethean fire. You must not only endure, you must even love and respect, the sorrow and the doubts and the self-questionings of which you have spoken: for they constitute the excess, the luxury, of life, and show themselves most when happiness is at its zenith, and has alloyed with it no gross desires. Such troubles are powerless to spring to birth amid life which is ordinary and everyday; they cannot touch the individual who is forced to endure hardship and want. That is why the bulk of the crowd goes on its way without ever experiencing the cloud of doubt, the pain of self-questioning. To him or to her, however, who voluntarily goes to meet those difficulties they become welcome guests, not a scourge. But one can never get even with them. To almost every one they bring sorrow and indifference. Yes; but that does not last. Later they serve to shed light upon life, for they lead one to the edge of the abyss whence there is no return--then gently force one to turn once more and look upon life. Thus they seem to challenge one's tried faculties in order that the latter may be prevented from sinking wholly into inertia.

Orada olmayan biri için ağızdan tükürükler saça saça yapılan çekiştirmeler işitilmez, sana kapıdan çıkmanı bekler gibi bakılmaz. Sohbet edenlerin gözlerinde duygudaşlık vardır, şakalarda samimi, haince olmayan gülüşler vardır... Her şey içten gelir! Gözlerde, sözlerde ne varsa kalpte de o vardır!

Bir erkeğin gönlünden, hiç farkına varmadan gelip geçen şeyleri bir genç kız inanılmaz bir çabuklukla yakalar; gözleri, onların peşine takılır, geçerken çizdikleri yol, hafızalarında silinmez izler bırakır. Erkeğe gerçeklerin apaçık gösterilmesi gereken yerde, kadına hafif bir rüzgar, işitilmez bir hava ürpermesi yeter.

Han iagttog ægteskaber, og i ægtemændenes forhold til deres koner så han altid sinxen med dens gåde, der var altid noget uforståeligt, noget uudsagt, og alligevel brød disse ægtemand ikke deres hjerner med indviklede problemer, de vandrede hen ad ægteskabets vej i en rolig og bevidst gangart, som havde de intet at søge, ingen valg at træffe.

All at once he found his mind drawing a parallel between that destiny and his own existence; all at once questions of life arose before his vision, like owls in an ancient ruin flushed from sleep by a stray ray of sunlight. Somehow he felt pained and grieved at his arrested development, at the check which had taken place in his moral growth, at the weight which appeared to be pressing upon his every faculty. Also gnawing at his heart there was a sense of envy that others should be living a life so full and free, while all the time the narrow, pitiful little pathway of his own existence was being blocked by a great boulder. And in his hesitating soul there arose a torturing consciousness that many sides of his nature had never yet been stirred, that others had never even been touched, and that not one of them had attained complete formation. Yet with this there went an aching suspicion that, buried in his being, as in a tomb, there still remained a moribund element of sweetness and light, and that it was an element which, though hidden in his personality, as a nugget lies lurking in the bowels of the earth, might once have become minted into sterling coin. But the treasure was now overlaid with rubbish--was now thickly littered over with dust. 'Twas as though some one had stolen from him, and besmirched, the store of gifts with which life and the world had dowered him; so that always he would be prevented from entering life's field and sailing across it with the aid of intellect and of will. Yes, at the very start a secret enemy had laid a heavy hand upon him and diverted him from the road of human destiny. And now he seemed to be powerless to leave the swamps and wilds in favour of that road. All around him was a forest, and ever the recesses of his soul were growing dimmer and darker, and the path more and more tangled, while the consciousness of his condition kept awaking within him less and less frequently--to arouse only for a fleeting moment his slumbering faculties. Brain and volition alike had become paralysed, and, to all appearances, irrevocably--the events of his life had become whittled down to microscopical proportions. Yet even with them he was powerless to cope--he was powerless to pass from one of them to another. Consequently they bandied him to and fro like the waves of the ocean. Never was he able to oppose to any event elasticity of will; never was he able to conceive, as the result of any event, a reasoned-out impulse. Yet to confess this, even to himself, always cost him a bitter pang: his fruitless regrets for lost opportunities, coupled with burning reproaches of conscience, always pricked him like needles, and led him to strive to put away such reproaches and to discover a scapegoat.

Yeryüzünde böyle Zahar gibi kocalar çoktur. Diplomatlar da karılarının öğütlerini kayıtsızca dinler, omuz silkerler ve gizlice onların öğütlerine uyarlar. Bazen bir genel müdür de karısının önemli bir konudaki saçmalıklarına ıslık çalarak, yüzünü buruşturarak yanıt verir, ama bir bakarsınız ertesi gün bu saçmalığı bir bakana saygıyla aktarmaktadır.

Oblomows liggende houding kwam niet uit noodzaak voort, zoals bij een zieke of bij iemand die slapen wil, het was geen toeval, omdat hij vermoeid was, noch genotzucht als van een luiaard, het was zijn normale houding. Wanneer hij thuis was - en hij was bijna altijd thuis - dan lag hij onveranderlijk in bed en altijd in diezelfde kamer, waar wij hem aangetroffen hebben en die niet alleen als slaapvertrek dienst deed, maar ook als salon en werkkamer. Hij had de beschikking over nog drie vertrekken, maar hij liep daar zelden binnen, hoogstens in de morgen, wanneer zijn kamer gedaan werd, wat lang niet alle dagen gebeurde. In die kamers zaten de meubels dan ook in hoezen en waren de gordijnen neergelaten.

İnsan hayatının normal amacı dört mevsimde de, yani hayatın dört çağında da fazla hoplayıp zıplamadan yaşamak ve son güne kadar hayat kadehinin hiçbir damlasını israf etmemektir. Ağır ağır yanan bir ateş, ne kadar şairane olursa olsun şiddetli bir yangından daha iyidir. Bu düşündüklerimi gerçekleştirmekle mutlu olacağım, fakat fazla umudum da yok, çünkü bu çok zor bir iş.

Sosyeteymiş, toplummuş! Sen, herhalde kasten götürüyorsun beni bu sosyete ve toplumlara, orada olma isteğinden tümden kurtulmam için. Yaşam, ah güzel yaşam! Onu nerede aramalı? Aklın, kalbin ilgilerinde mi? Bütün bunların çevresinde döndüğü merkezi göster: öyle bir şey yok, derin bir şey, canlı bir şey yok. Bütün bunlar ölü, uyuyan insanlar, benden de kötü bu sosyete ve toplum üyeleri! Onları yaşamda sürükleyen şey ne? Bunlar yatmayıp her gün sinekler gibi, ileri geri uçuşuyorlar, ama ne için? Bir salona giriyorsun ve misafirlerin nasıl simetrik bir şekilde yerleştiğine, nasıl huzurlu ve derin düşüncelere dalmış bir şekilde kâğıt oynamaya oturduğuna şaşakalıyorsun. Diyecek bir şey yok, şanlı bir yaşam vazifesi! Hareket arayan bir akıl için mükemmel örnek! Bunlar ölü değil mi? Yaşamları boyunca oturup pineklemiyorlar mı? Neden ben evde yattığım ve aklımı valelerle, sineklerle bozmadığım için daha suçlu oluyormuşum?” “Yaşlı onların hepsi, bunu bin kez konuştuk,” dedi Ştoltz. “Daha yeni bir şeyin yok mu?” “Peki bizim iyi gençlerimiz, onlar ne yapıyor? Herhalde uyumuyor, Neva Bulvarı’nda geziniyor, dans ediyorlar? Her gün boş yere üst üste yığılan günler! Ama baksana, onlar gibi giyinmeyen, onların unvan ve adını taşımayanlara nasıl kibirle ve tarifsiz bir özgüvenle, küçümseyici bakışlarla bakıyorlar. Ve zavallılar kendilerinin kalabalıktan yüksekte olduğunu hayal ediyor: ‘Bizler, bizden başka kimsenin çalışmadığı yerlerde çalışırız; biz koltukların en ön sırasındayız, Knez N.’nin balosundayız, sadece bizi davet ettiler bu baloya’... Ama bir araya toplanınca da vahşiler gibi içip kavga ederler! Bunlar mı canlı, uyumayan insanlar? Hem sadece gençler de değil: yetişkinlere de bak. Bir araya geliyor, birbirlerini davet ediyorlar, ne büyük konukseverlik, ne iyilik, ne birbirlerine düşkünlük! Öğle yemeğinde, akşam yemeğinde görev gibi toplanıyorlar, neşesiz, soğuk bir halde, aşçılarıyla, salonlarıyla övünmek ve sonra da bıyık altından gülmek, birbirlerine çelme takmak için. Evvelsi gün, yemekten sonra orada bulunmayan ünlüleri karalamaya başladıkları zaman nereye bakacağımı bilemedim, masanın altına saklanmak istedim: ‘O aptal, bu rezil, diğeri hırsız, ötekisi komik’; sanki avlanıyorlar! Bunu söylerken bir de birbirlerine şöyle der gibi bakıyorlar: ‘Haydi çık sen dışarı, sıra sana da gelecek...’ Eğer bunlar öyleyse neden onlarla yan yana geliyorlar? Neden birbirlerinin elini böyle sertçe sıkıyorlar? Ne samimi bir gülüş, ne bir duygudaşlık ışıltısı! Gösterişli unvanlar, rütbeler almaya çabalıyorlar. ‘Benim şuyum var, ben bu oldum,’ diye böbürleniyorlar... Bu mu yaşamak? Ben bunu istemem. Ne öğreneceğim orada, ne alacağım?

Önünde üzerinde acil ve çok acil yazan zarflar gelip gitmeye başladığı zaman, ona türlü türlü raporlar, yazışmalar hazırlamasını, davaları incelemesini, sanki alay eder gibi "not" adı verilmiş, ama iki parmak kalınlığında olan defterleri doldurmasını emrettikleri zaman daha da şaşırdı Oblomov; üstelik bunların hepsinin hemen olması, bir yerlere yetişmesi, hiçbir şekilde yarıda bırakılmaması gerekiyordu: bir iş elinden çıkar çıkmaz, hemen acilen bir başkası sarılıyordu eline, sanki onda bunu bitirmek, göndermek ve üçüncüye atılmak gücü varmış gibi - ve bunun sonu hiç gelmiyordu! Bir-iki kere onu geceleyin kaldırdılar, "not" yazmasını emrettiler, birkaç kez de ulak gönderip misafirlikten çağırdılar onu, hep bu notlar yüzünden. Bütün bunlar onda büyük bir korku ve sıkıntıya yol açtı. "Ne zaman yaşayacağım? Yaşam ne zaman?" diye düşünüyordu.

As a young man, he had instinctively husbanded the freshness of his powers. At the time, it was too soon to see that this freshness was giving birth to vivacity and gaiety, and shape to the courage needed to forge a soul that does not pale, no matter what life brings, regards life not as a heavy burden, a cross, but merely as a duty, and does battle with it with dignity. He had devoted much mental care to his heart and its wise laws. Observing the reflection of beauty on the imagination, both consciously and unconsciously, then the transition from impression to emotion, its symptoms, play, and outcome and looking around himself, advancing into life, he derived for himself the conviction that love moves the world like Archimede's lever, that it holds as much universal and irrefutable truth and good as misunderstanding and misuse do hypocrisy and ugliness. p. 494

Bazen insana nadir ve kısa dalgınlık anları gelir, sanki insan başka bir sefer bir vakit ve bir yerde yaşadığı ânı yeniden yaşıyormuş gibi olur. Karşısındaki yaşanan olayı uykusunda mı görmüştür, eskiden bir zaman yaşamış ve unutmuş mudur, bilemez, ama görür: aynı insanlar oturur çevresinde, tıpkı o zaman oturdukları gibi, aynı sözler duyulur bir zamanki gibi: imgelem çaresizce tekrar oraya sürüklenir, bellek geçmişi canlandıramaz ve dalgınlığa düşer.

Tankefuldt så han, hvor stille og roligt solen sank i aftenrødens bål, og blev til syvende og sidst enig med sig selv om, at hans liv ikke blot var faldet sådan ud, simpelt og ligetil, men at han var skabt, ja forudbestemt til at leve sådan for dermed at udtrykke muligheden af en ideelt fredsommelig menneskelige tilværelse. Det var faldet i andres lod, tænkte han, at stå som udtryk for tilværelsens mere urolige sider og sætte skabende og ødelæggende kræfter i gang - enhver har sin opgave!

Sonunda küçükbeyi yakalar, yanlarında getirdikleri kaputa, babasının kürküne, battaniyelere sarıp sarmalayarak kollar üstünde, bir zafer kazanmışçasına eve getirirler. Evdekiler kaybolduğuna karar vermiş, bir daha yüzünü görmekten umutlarını kesmişlerdir. Onu sağ salim gördükleri zaman nasıl sevinirler, anlatılamaz. Tanrıya şükürler ederler, İlyuşa'ya nane ruhları, ıhlamurlar içirirler; akşam sıcak şerbetler verirler, üç gün yataktan çıkarmazlar. Oysa ona iyi gelecek bir tek şey vardır: Yeniden kartopu oynamak...

Şurada kanal açıyorlar, burada doğuya asker gönderiyorlar; babacığım mahvolduk! Yüzü karman çorman, koşturuyor, bağrışıp duruyor, sanırsın kendisi askere gidiyor. Tartışırlar, enine boyuna hesaplarlar, ama işin sıkıcı yanı, bununla ilgilenmezler; bu çığlıkların arasında deliksiz bir uyku görünür! Bunun onlarla alakası yoktur; kendi şapkalarını giymezler. Kendi işleri yoktur, hem dört bir yana el atarlar, hem de bir şeyin ucundan tutmazlar. Bu enginliğin altında tam bir boşluk vardır, her şey karşısında tam duygusuzluk!

My life began by flickering out. It may sound strange but it is so. From the very first moment I became conscious of myself, I felt that I was already flickering out. I began to flicker out over the writing of official papers at the office; I went on flickering out when I read truths in books which I did not know how to apply in life, when I sat with friends listening to rumours, gossip, jeering, spiteful, cold, and empty chatter, and watching friendships kept up by meetings that were without aim or affection; I was flickering out and wasting my energies with Minna on whom I spent more than half of my income, imagining that I loved her; I was flickering out when I walked idly and dejectedly along Nevsky Avenue among people in raccoon coats and beaver collars – at parties, on reception days, where I was welcomed with open arms as a fairly eligible young man; I was flickering out and wasting my life and mind on trifles moving from town to some country house, and from the country house to Gorokhovaya, fixing the arrival of spring by the fact that lobsters and oysters had appeared in the shops, of autumn and winter by the special visiting days, of summer by the fêtes, and life in general by lazy and comfortable somnolence like the rest. ... Even ambition – what was it wasted on? To order clothes at a famous tailor's? To get an invitation to a famous house? To shake hands with Prince P.? And ambition is the salt of life! Where has it gone to? Either I have not understood this sort of life or it is utterly worthless; but I did not know of a better one. No one showed it to me.

There are many husbands like Zahar in the world. A diplomatist will sometimes carelessly listen to his wife's advice, shrug his shoulders, and secretly write what she told him. A Government official will whistle and make a contemptuous grimace at his wife's chatter about some important affair - and the next day he will solemnly repeat this chatter to the Minister. These gentlemen treat their wives morosely or lightly, despising them, like Zahar, as mere women, or regarding them as a pleasant relaxation from the serious life of business.

He thought that the civil servants employed in one department were one big, happy family, concerned about one another's peace and pleasure; that going to the office was not by any means a duty that must be performed day in and day out, and that rainy weather, heat, or a mere disinclination could always be given as a legitimate excuse for not going to the office. One can easily imagine his disappointment when he discovered that nothing short of an earthquake could prevent a civil servant who was in good health from turning up at his office.

Petersburg'daki ilk yıllarında, ilkgençlik yıllarında, yüzünün huzurlu hatları daha canlıydı, gözleri uzun zaman yaşam ateşiyle ışıldardı, onlardan aydınlık, umut, güç huzmeleri yayılırdı. Herkes gibi heyecanlanır, umut eder, boş şeylere sevinir ve boş şeylerden kaçınmazdı. Ama bütün bunlar eskidendi, insanın başka her insanı samimi dostu sandığı ve neredeyse her kadını sevdiği ve herkese elini ve kalbini sunmaya hazır olduğu, hatta bazen bunu gerçekleştirdiği, genellikle de sonradan bütün hayatı boyunca büyük pişmanlık duyduğu o sevecen çağdaydı.

Çünkü onda her akıldan daha değerli bir şey var: dürüst, onurlu bir kalp! Bu onun doğal altını; onu yaşamı boyunca güvenle taşımış. Darbeler atlattı, gevşedi, uyudu, sonunda ezik, hayal kırıklığı içinde, yaşama gücünü kaybetti, ama onurunu ve dürüstlüğünü kaybetmedi. Tek bir sahte nota bile duyulmadı kalbinden, ona bir damla çamur bulaşmadı. Şık yalanlar onu kandıramaz ve hiçbir şey onu yanlış yola sokamaz; ister çevresinde koca bir saçmalık, kötülük okyanusu olsun, ister bütün dünya zehirlensin ve ters yüz olsun: Oblomov hiçbir zaman yalanın idolüne boyun eğmez, ruhunda hep temiz, hep aydınlık, hep onurlu olur... Kristal gibi, saydam ruhtur bu; böyle insanlar az olur; nadir olurlar; kalabalıkta bir inci! Kalbi hiçbir şeyle satın alınamaz; ona her yerde ve her şeyde güvenilebilir. İşte bu yüzden sen sadık kaldın ve bu yüzden onun için kaygılanman beni hiç üzmüyor. Yüksek nitelikleri olan çok insan tanıdım, ama daha temiz, aydınlık, ve yalın bir kalp tanımadım; çok insan sevdim, ama hiçbirini Oblomov'u sevdiğim gibi sağlam ve ateşli sevmedim. Bir kez tanıyınca, onu sevmekten vazgeçemezsin. Öyle değil mi? Tahmin edebildim mi?

I don’t want to go away from here, from his grave, I mean ! Our dear master, Ilya Ilyitch, you know. . . .” he cried. “I’ve been praying for him again to-day, the Kingdom of Heaven be his ! To think that the Lord should have taken such a man from us ! He was a joy to all, he ought to have lived a hundred years. . . .” said Zahar, sobbing and wrinkling up his face. “I’ve been to his grave to-day; whenever I come to these parts I go there ; I sit down and cry and cry. . . . Sometimes I lose myself thinking, it is so still around, and suddenly I fancy he is calling me, ‘Zahar, Zahar!’ and a shudder runs down my back! We shall never have another such master ! And how fond he was of you — may the Lord remember his dear soul in His kingdom !

„Wenn man einen Dieb darstellt, eine gefallene Frau oder einen aufgeblasenen Dummkopf, darf man doch den Menschen nicht vergessen. Wo ist sie denn die Menschlichkeit? Sie wollen alleine mit dem Kopf schreiben. (..) Glaubt ihr denn man braucht zum Denken kein Herz? Durch die Liebe trägt es ja erst Früchte. Reicht ihm die Hand, dem fallenden Menschen, um ihn aufzurichten oder weint bitterlich, wenn er zu Grunde geht. Aber verhöhnt ihn nicht! Liebt ihn, seht euch selber in ihm und geht mit ihm um wie euresgleichen. Dann werde ich euch lesen und das Haupt vor euch neigen. (..) Diebe und gefallene Frauen stellt ihr da, aber den Menschen vergesst ihr. Oder ihr seid unfähig ihn darzustellen. Von welcher Kunst ist denn hier die Rede? Welche poetischen Fragen habt ihr denn gefunden? Entlarvt das Laster und den Schmutz, aber bitte ohne den Anspruch poetisch zu sein. (..) Sie vergessen, dass diesem unwürdigen Gefäss ein höherer Ursprung inne wohnt. Das es zwar ein verdorbener Mensch ist, aber immerhin immer noch ein Mensch ist.

Bu arada uzun zamandır, neredeyse yaşamı boyunca kendi erkeklik üstünlüğünü hırslı, gururlu Olga'nın gözünde belli bir seviyede tutmaya yönelik çabasını, boş bir kıskançlıktan değil, bu kristal yaşamı karartmamak için sürdürdü; bu da olabilirdi, eğer Olga'nın kendisine olan inancını biraz sarsacak olsaydı. Birçok kadına bu hiç gerekmez: bir kez evlendiler mi, kocanın iyi ve kötü niteliklerini uysalca kabullenirler, ses etmeden onlara hazırlanan duruma ve ortama uyum sağlarlar ya da o ilk tesadüfi tutkuya uysalca teslim olurlar, hemen olanaksız olanı kabullenir ya da ona karşı çıkmayı gerekli bulmazlar: "Kader" derler, "tutkular, kadın - zayıf bir varlık" vb. Hatta eğer koca, aklıyla -erkeklikte bulunan bu zorunlu güçle- kalabalığı aşarsa, böyle kadınlar kocalarının bu üstünlüğüyle, sanki akıl değerli bir kolyeymiş gibi gururlanırlar, ama sadece eğer bu akıl onların zayıf, kadınsı kurnazlıklarına hapsolmuşsa böyle yaparlar. Eğer adam onların kurnaz, değersiz, bazen de hain varlıklarının küçük komedisini seyretmeye kalkışacak olursa, bu aklı ona dar ederler.