Quotes By The Double

“These, gentlemen, are my rules: if I don't succeed, I keep trying; if I do succeed, I keep quiet; and in any case I don't undermine anyone. I'm not an intriguer, and I'm proud of it. I wouldn't make a good diplomat. They also say, gentlemen, that the bird flies to the fowler. That's true, and I'm ready to agree: but who is the fowler here, and who is the bird? That's still a question, gentlemen!”

“إن هذه المخلوقات التي لا تملك قوة الدفاع عن نفسها متشابهة متماثلة: تعرف أن الهوة تنتظرها هناك، ثم تجري إليها لا تلوي على شيء.”

“The door from the next room suddenly opened with a timid, quiet creak, as if thus announcing the entrance of a very insignificant person...”

“He could not consent to allow himself to be insulted, still less to allow himself to be treated as a rag, and, above all, to allow a thoroughly vicious man to treat him so. No quarrelling, however, no quarrelling! Possibly if some one wanted, if some one, for instance, actually insisted on turning Mr. Golyadkin into a rag, he might have done so, might have done so without opposition or punishment (Mr. Golyadkin was himself conscious of this at times), and he would have been a rag and not Golyadkin - yes, a nasty, filthy rag; but that rag would not have been a simple rag, it would have been a rag possessed of dignity, it would have been a rag possessed of feelings and sentiments, even though dignity was defenceless and feelings could not assert themselves, and lay hidden deep down in the filthy folds of the rag, still the feelings there...”

“The cabby left, muttering under his nose. "What's he muttering about?" Mr. Goliadkin thought through his tears. "I hired him for the evening, I'm sort of...within my rights nows...so there! I hired him for the evening, and that's the end of the matter. Even if he just stands there, it's all the same. It's as I will. I'm free to go, and free not to go. And that I'm now standing behind the woodpile--that, too, is quite all right...and don't you dare say anything; I say, the gentleman wants to stand behind the woodpile, so he stands behind the woodpile...and it's no taint to anybody's honor--so there! So there, lady mine, if you'd like to know. Thus and so, I say, but in our age, lady mine, nobody lives in a hut. So there! In our industrial age, lady mine, you can't get anywhere without good behavior, of which you yourself serve as a pernicious example...You say one must serve as a chief clerk and live in a hut on the seashore. First of all, lady mine, there are no chief clerks on the seashore, and second, you and I can't possible get to be a chief clerk. For, to take an example, suppose I apply, I show up--thus and so, as a chief clerk, say, sort of...and protect me from my enemy...and they'll tell you, my lady, say, sort of...there are lots of chief clerks, and here you're not at some émigrée Falbala's, where you learned good behavior, of which you yourself serve as a pernicious example. Good behavior, my lady, means sitting at home, respecting your father, and not thinking of any little suitors before it's time. Little suitors, my lady, will be found in due time! So there! Of course, one must indisputably have certain talents, to wit: playing the piano on occasion, speaking French, some history, geography, catechism, and arithmetic--so there!--but not more. Also cooking; cooking should unfailingly be part of every well-behaved girl's knowledge!”

“Bow or not? Call back or not? Recognize him or not?" our hero wondered in indescribable anguish, "or pretend that I am not myself, but somebody else strikingly like me, and look as though nothing were the matter. Simply not I, not I—and that's all," said Mr. Golyadkin, taking off his hat to Andrey Filippovitch and keeping his eyes fixed upon him. "I'm . . . I'm all right," he whispered with an effort; "I'm . . . quite all right. It's not I, it's not I—and that is the fact of the matter.”

“Beside himself with shame and despair, the utterly ruined though perfectly just Mr. Golyadkin dashed headlong away, wherever fate might lead him; but with every step he took, with every thud of his foot on the granite of the pavement, there leapt up as though out of the earth a Mr. Golyadkin precisely the same, perfectly alike, and of a revolting depravity of heart. And all these precisely similar Golyadkins set to running after one another as soon as they appeared, and stretched in a long chain like a file of geese, hobbling after the real Mr. Golyadkin, so there was nowhere to escape from these duplicates — so that Mr. Golyadkin, who was in every way deserving of compassion, was breathless with terror; so that at last a terrible multitude of duplicates had sprung into being; so that the whole town was obstructed at last by duplicate Golyadkins, and the police officer, seeing such a breach of decorum, was obliged to seize all these duplicates by the collar and to put them into the watch-house, which happened to be beside him . . . Numb and chill with horror, our hero woke up, and numb and chill with horror felt that his waking state was hardly more cheerful . . . It was oppressive and harrowing . . . He was overcome by such anguish that it seemed as though some one were gnawing at his heart.”

“...örneÄŸin ben maskeyi sadece karnavalda, neÅŸeli toplantılarda, yani gerektiÄŸi zaman kullanırım, bazı insanlar gibi, tabiri caizse, her gün yüzümde maskeyle dolaÅŸmam.”

“Gazda ÅŸi musafirul goliră cîte un pahar, apoi încă unul. Musafirul devenea tot mai simpatic ÅŸi, la rîndul său, dădu repetate dovezi de sinceritate ÅŸi exuberanţă, participînd viu la mulÅ£umirea sufletească a domnului Goliadkin ÅŸi bucurîndu-se de bucuria lui, văzînd în el pe adevăratul ÅŸi singurul său binefăcător. Luînd un condei ÅŸi o foaie de hîrtie, îl rugă pe domnul Goliadkin să nu se uite la ceea ce scrie ÅŸi, după ce isprăvi, îi întinse gazdei sale hîrtia. Era un catren sentimental, scris, de altfel, într-un stil emfatic, caligrafiat admirabil, compus, probabil, chiar de simpaticul musafir. Stihurile sunau astfel:
Chiar dacă tu mă vei uita,
Eu nu te voi uita pe tine;
Nicicînd, orice s-ar întîmpla,
Nu mă uita nici tu pe mine!”

“Pero supongamos que todo se arregla de algún modo. Supongamos que el dinerillo que tengo me basta para empezar. Necesitaré otra vivienda, algunos muebles por malos que sean... También para empezar, no podré contar con Petrushka. Me las arreglaré bien sin ese truhán..., me ayudará la gente de la casa... Pongamos que todo eso está bien. ¿Pero por qué no pienso nunca en lo que debo pensar, sino en otra cosa?”