"she felt that this evening, when the two men would meet for the first time, must be the turning-point in her life. and she kept picturing them to herself, first individually, then both together. when she thought of the past, she lingered with pleasure and tenderness on the memories of her relations with levin. memories of childhood and of levin’s friendship with her dead brother lent a peculiar poetic charm to her relationship with him. his love for her, of which she felt certain, was flattering and delightful, and she could think of levin with a light heart. but something uneasy clouded her thoughts of vronsky, though he was all a well-bred man-of-the-world could be, as if there were a false note – not in him, he was very simple and nice, but in herself; whereas with levin she felt quite natural and untroubled. on the other hand, directly she started to imagine the future with vronsky, a dazzling vision of happiness rose up before her, while with levin the future seemed misty."
- leo tolstoy, anna karenin.
... sometimes it seems like the old writers knew everything.
i suppose now it is only for me to bid adieu on my own terms. yes, i think that's right.
