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“Era hijo de un funcionario de San Petersburgo que había ido saltando de un ministerio y de un departamento a otro, la típica trayectoria de algunas personas de cierta condición, manifiestamente incapaces de desempeñar ninguna función importante, pero a quienes, en virtud de sus largos años de servicio y del grado que han alcanzado en el escalafón, no se les puede expulsar, y por tanto reciben cargos ficticios e inventados, aunque los rublos con los que se les remunera, de seis a diez mil, son bien reales y les permiten llegar a una edad provecta.”
― Leo Tolstoy, The Death of Ivan Ilych

“His father had been an official who after serving in various ministries and departments in Petersburg had made the sort of career which brings men to positions from which by reason of their long service they cannot be dismissed, though they are obviously unfit to hold any responsible position, and for whom therefore posts are specially created, which though fictitious carry salaries of from six to ten thousand rubles that are not fictitious, and in receipt of which they live on to a great age.”
― Leo Tolstoy, The Death of Ivan Ilych

“He could not say, like Michelangelo: “If we have been pleased with life then we should not be displeased with death, since it comes from the hand of the same master,”
― Leo Tolstoy, The Death of Ivan Ilyich

“I bumped my side, and then I was just the same, that day and the next; it ached a little, then more, then doctors, then dejection, anguish, doctors again; and I was coming closer and closer to the abyss. Losing strength. Closer and closer. And here I am wasted away, there's no light in my eyes. It's death yet I think about my appendix. I think about repairing my appendix, yet it's death. Can it be death?”
― Leo Tolstoy, The Death of Ivan Ilych

“Ivan Ilyich is left with the consciousness that his life is poisoned for him and poisons life for others, and that this poison is not weakening but is permeating his whole being more and more.”
― Leo Tolstoy, The Death of Ivan Ilych

“وكلما كان يُبحر مبتعدا عن الطفولة ومقتربا من الحاضر، كلما زادت تفاهة الأفراح وهشاشتها.”
― Leo Tolstoy, The Death of Ivan Ilych

“وحده جيرازيم من لا يكذب عليه، كل شيء يدل إنه وحده يدرك حقيقة الأمر، ولا يرى داعيا لإخفائها، لكنه ببساطة يشفق لهزال ووهن سيده. ذات مرة حين صرفه إيفان إيليتش قال بصراحة: "كلنا سنموت يوما ما، فلماذا لا أتحمل قليلا؟"؛ معبرا عن حقيقة إنه لا يعتقد أن عمله متعبًا، لأنه يقوم به لرجل يحتضر، على أمل أن يجد من يقوم له بالشيء نفسه حين يأتي موعده هو.”
― Leo Tolstoy, The Death of Ivan Ilych

“الموت.. نعم الموت. ولا أحد منهم يعرف شيئًا أو يود أن يعرف شيئًا، ولا يشفقون عليّ. إنهم يلعبون الآن. الأمر سيان بالنسبة لهم، لكنهم سيموتون أيضًا! الأغبياء! أنا سأسبق، وهم سيلحقون، لكن الأمر سيان بالنسبة لهم، وهم الآن يمرحون. الوحوش!”
― Leo Tolstoy, The Death of Ivan Ilych

“كانت حياة إيفان إليتش من أبسط الحيوات وأكثرها عادية، ولذلك من أشقَّها أيضا.”
― Leo Tolstoy, The Death of Ivan Ilych

“The syllogism he had learnt from Kiesewetter's Logic: "Caius is a man, men are mortal, therefore Caius is mortal," had always seemed to him correct as applied to Caius, but certainly not as applied to himself. That Caius—man in the abstract—was mortal, was perfectly correct, but he was not Caius, not an abstract man, but a creature quite, quite separate from all others. He had been little Vanya, with a mamma and a papa, with Mitya and Volodya, with the toys, a coachman and a nurse, afterwards with Katenka and will all the joys, griefs, and delights of childhood, boyhood, and youth. What did Caius know of the smell of that striped leather ball Vanya had been so fond of? Had Caius kissed his mother's hand like that, and did the silk of her dress rustle so for Caius? Had he rioted like that at school when the pastry was bad? Had Caius been in love like that? Could Caius preside at a session as he did? "Caius really was mortal, and it was right for him to die; but for me, little Vanya, Ivan Ilych, with all my thoughts and emotions, it's altogether a different matter. It cannot be that I ought to die. That would be too terrible.”
― Leo Tolstoy, The Death of Ivan Ilych

“el mero hecho de la muerte de un conocido cercano despertaba en todos los que se enteraban de ella, como de costumbre, el sentimiento complaciente de que «es él quien ha muerto y no yo».”
― Lev Tolstói, LA MUERTE DE IVÁN ILICH

“It is finished!" someone said above him.
He heard these words and repeated them in his heart. "Death is finished," he said to himself. "It is no more.”
― Leo Tolstoy, The Death of Ivan Ilych

“It's God's will. We shall all come to it someday”
― Leo Tolstoy, The Death of Ivan Ilych

“The syllogism he had learnt from Kiesewetter’s Logic: “Caius is a man, men are mortal, therefore Caius is mortal,�� had always seemed to him correct as applied to Caius, but certainly not as applied to himself. That Caius—man in the abstract—was mortal, was perfectly correct, but he was not Caius, not an abstract man, but a creature quite, quite separate from all others.”
― Leo Tolstoy, The Death of Ivan Ilych

“Morning or evening, Friday or Sunday - it didn't matter, it was all the same - grinding, agonizing pain, never for a moment relenting; an awareness of life hopelessly slipping away but not yet gone; the same terrible, relentless approach of hateful death, the only reality; and still all that lying. With all of this, what did the days, weeks and hours matter?”
― Leo Tolstoy, The Death of Ivan Ilych

“The face of the dead lady was stern, tranquil and majestic. Neither on her clear cold brow nor on her tightly closed lips was there any movement. She was all ears. But was she even now understanding those solemn words?”
― Leo Tolstoy, The Death of Ivan Ilych

“he knew that, whatever was done to him, nothing would emerge but more and more agony, suffering and death. And this lie was torture for him - he was tortured by their unwillingness to acknowledge what they all knew and he knew; they wanted to lie to him about his terrible situation, and they wanted him - they were compelling him - to be a party to this lie. All this lying to him, lie upon lie, on the eve of his death, lying that was inexorably reducing the solemn act of his death to the same level as their social calls, their draperies, the sturgeon for dinner ... it was all a terrible torment for Ivan Ilyich.”
― Leo Tolstoy, The Death of Ivan Ilych

“In the depths of his soul Ivan Ilyich knew he was dying but, not only could he not get used to the idea, he didn't understand it, couldn't understand it at all.”
― Leo Tolstoy, The Death of Ivan Ilych

“And next morning he has to get up again, put on his clothc, go to court, talk, write or, if he doesn't go out, stay in with everyone of rise oventy-four hours that make P a day and a night, each one of them an agony. And it has to live like this on the edge of destruction, alonk, with nobody at all to understand and pity him.”
― Leo Tolstoy, The Death of Ivan Ilych

“Praskovya took great pride in biting things back. Convinced that her husband was a horrible man who had made her life a misery, she was now sorry for herself. And the sorrier she became, the more she hated her husband. She began to wish he was dead, and then not to, because without him there would be no income.”
― Leo Tolstoy, The Death of Ivan Ilych

“When the baby was born, with the various difficulties with feeding, the real and imaginary illnesses of mother and child, which demanded his sympathetic involvement even though he understood nothing about them, the need for Ivan Ilyich to safeguard his independence became even more urgent.”
― Leo Tolstoy, The Death of Ivan Ilych

“It didn't take him long - no more than a year after his wedding - to realize that although married life did provide some conveniences, it was actually rather a complex and difficult business, and the path of duty, which meant leading a decent life approved of by society, called for a clearly defined attitude, as at work.”
― Leo Tolstoy, The Death of Ivan Ilych

“It is as if I had been going downhill while I imagined I was going up. And that is really what it was. I was going up in public opinion, but to the same extent life was ebbing away from me.”
― Leo Tolstoy, The Death of Ivan Ilyich

“می‌بایس�� طی بیست و چهار ساعتی که گذراندن هر یک از آن‌ه�� عذابی بود این زندگی را بر لب گودال گور به تنهایی تحمل کند به هیچ همنفسی که حال او را بفهمد و غم‌خوار�� باشد.”
― Leo Tolstoy, The Death of Ivan Ilych

“تمام آن چه برایش زندگی کرده ای و میکنی دروغ است وفریبی که زندگی و مرگ را از تو پنهان میدارد."
*
در جایی که خیال می کردم دارم بالا می روم، تو نگو از تپه دارم پایین می آیم. و راستی راستی هم چنین بود. به لحاظ افکار عمومی بالا می رفتم، اما به همان نسبت زندگی از من کناره می گرفت. و حالا دیگر کار از کار گذشته است و چیزی جز مرگ وجود ندارد. نکند راستی راستی کل زندگی ام غلط بوده باشد؟
*
آنجا در پس‌�� پشت، در ابتدای زندگی، یک نقطه‌�� روشن هست و پس از آن همه چیز به سیاهی می‌گرای�� و هی سیاه‌ت�� می‌شو�� و هی با سرعت پیش می‌رو�� �� به نسبت معکوس با مجذور فاصله از مرگ.
*
ایوان ایلیچ در بستر مرگ به خاطر درماندگی و تنهایی جانکاهش و بی رحمی انسان و بی رحمی خدا و غیبت خدا می‌گریس��.”
― Leo Tolstoy, The Death of Ivan Ilych

“All the way back he kept going over in his mind everything the doctor had said, trying to translate his confusingly complex technicalities into everyday speech and find in them an answer to one question: am I in a bad way, a really bad way, or is it nothing to worry about just now?”
― Leo Tolstoy, The Death of Ivan Ilych

“He felt he was in agony because he was being shoved into that black hole, but even more because he was unable to get right into it.”
― Leo Tolstoy, The Death of Ivan Ilych

“He had been forgotten, and not only this but that what was for him the greatest and most cruel injustice appeared to others a quite ordinary occurrence.”
― Leo Tolstoy, The Death of Ivan Ilych

“Besides considerations as to the possible transfers and promotions likely to result from Ivan Ilych's death, the mere fact of the death of a near acquaintance aroused, as usual, in all who heard of it the complacent feeling that, "it is he who is dead and not I.”
― Leo Tolstoy, The Death of Ivan Ilych

“It seems that in every attack Dickens makes upon society he is always pointing to a change of spirit rather than a change of structure. It is hopeless to try and pin him down to any definite remedy, still more to any political doctrine. His approach is always along the moral plane, and his attitude is sufficiently summed up in that remark about Strong's school being as different from Creakle's ‘as good is from evil��. Two things can be very much alike and yet abysmally different. Heaven and Hell are in the same place. Useless to change institutions without a ‘change of heart�� �� that, essentially, is what he is always saying.”
― George Orwell, Charles Dickens