“He got up, wishing to go around, but the aunt handed him the snuffbox right over Helene, behind her back. Helene moved forward so as to make room and, smiling, glanced around. As always at soirees, she was wearing a gown in the fashion of the time, quite open in front and back. Her bust, which had always looked like marble to Pierre, was now such a short distance from him that he could involuntarily make out with his nearsighted eyes the living loveliness of her shoulders and neck, and so close to his lips that he had only to lean forward a little to touch her. He sensed the warmth of her body, the smell of her perfume, and the creaking of her corset as she breathed. He saw not her marble beauty, which made one with her gown, he saw and sensed all the loveliness of her body, which was merely covered by clothes. And once he had seen it, he could not see otherwise, as we cannot return to a once-exposed deception.”

― Leo Tolstoy

“I have waked up.”

― Leo Tolstoy

“Yes, love, ...but not the love that loves for something, to gain something, or because of something, but that love that I felt for the first time, when dying, I saw my enemy and yet loved him. I knew that feeling of love which is the essence of the soul, for which no object is needed. And I know that blissful feeling now too. To love one's neighbours; to love one's enemies. To love everything - to Love God in all His manifestations. Some one dear to one can be loved with human love; but an enemy can only be loved with divine love. And that was why I felt such joy when I felt that I loved that man. What happened to him? Is he alive? ...Loving with human love, one may pass from love to hatred; but divine love cannot change. Nothing, not even death, can shatter it. It is the very nature of the soul. And how many people I have hated in my life. And of all people none I have loved and hated more than her.... If it were only possible for me to see her once more... once, looking into those eyes to say...”

― Leo Tolstoy

“Man lives consciously for himself, but is an unconscious instrument in the attainment of the historic, universal aims of humanity.

― Leo Tolstoy

“All, everything that I understand, I understand only because I love.”

― Leo Tolstoy

“In the morning he would sit down to work, finish his allotted task, then take the little lamp from the hook, put it on the table, get his book from the shelf, open it, and sit down to read. And the more he read, the more he understood, and the brighter and happier it grew in his heart.”

― Leo Tolstoy

“And then all at once love turns up, and you're done for, done for.”

― Leo Tolstoy

“Which is worse? the wolf who cries before eating the lamb or the wolf who does not.

― Leo Tolstoy

“Millions of men, renouncing their human feelings and reason, had to go from west to east to slay their fellows, just as some centuries previously hordes of men had come from the east to the west slaying their fellows.”

― Leo Tolstoy

“Well, what is that to me? I can't see her!" she cried.”

― Leo Tolstoy

“He went down trying not to look long at her, as though she were the sun, but he saw her, as one sees the sun, without looking.”

― Leo Tolstoy

“There is no greatness where there is not simplicity, goodness, and truth.”

― Leo Tolstoy

“The only happy marriages I know are arranged ones.”

― Leo Tolstoy

“The march of humanity, springing as it does from an infinite multitude of individual wills, is continuous.”

― Leo Tolstoy

“I think that in order to know love one must make a mistake and then correct it.”

― Leo Tolstoy


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