...of a statue

The late lamented Odintsov disliked innovations, but he was not averse to what he called 'a certain play of elevated taste' and as a consequence of this had erected in his garden, between the greenhouse and the pond, a structure resembling a Grecian portico built of Russian brick. In the rear wall of the portico or gallery six niches had been made for statues which Odintsov had intended to order from abroad. These statues were to have represented Solitariness, Silence, Contemplation, Melancholy, Modesty and Sensitivity. One of them, the Goddess of Silence, with a finger to her lips, had actually been delivered and set in place, but on the very same day little boys from the manor house had knocked off the nose and, although a local plasterer had undertaken to give her a nose 'twice as good as the original', Odintsov ordered her to be removed and she was found a place in the corner of the threshing barn where she stood for many long years, giving rise to superstitious horror among the peasant women. The facade of the portico had long since become overgrown with thick vegetation and only the capitals of the columns were visible above the solid greenery. Within the portico itself it was cool, even at midday. Anna Sergeevna did not like visiting the place ever since she had seen a grass-snake there, but Katya often went there to sit on a large stone seat which had been set below one of the niches. Surrounded by freshness and shade, she used to take her work there and read or give herself up to that feeling of complete tranquility which is probably familiar to everyone and whose charm consists in a scarcely conscious, silent attentiveness to the broad wave of live which ceaselessly rolls both around and within us.

[Fathers and Sons, Turgenev, I.]

...of trust

In the garden of Nikolskoe, in the shade of a tall ash-tree, Katya and Arkady were seated on a turf seat. On the ground beside them lay Fifi, having lent her long body that elegant curve known among sportsmen as 'a hare's lie'. Both Arkady and Katya were silent. He held in his hand a half-opened book while she picked out of a basket some last crumbs of white bread and threw them to a small family of sparrows which, with their characteristic cowardly impudence, jumped about twittering at her feet. A faint breeze, rustling in the leaves of the ash-tree, set in calm to-and-fro motion, both over the dark path and along Fifi's yellow spine, a series of pale golden patches of light. Uninterrupted shade engulfed Arkady and Katya, save that from time to time a bright strand would catch alight in her hair. They were both silent, but it was precisely in the fact of their silence and their sitting together that a trusting closeness reigned. Each seemed not to be thinking about the other, but was secretly delighted by the other's nearness. And their faces had changed since last we saw them, Arkady's seeming calmer and Katya more lively and bolder.

[Father's and Sons, Turgenev, I.]

...of enemies at odds

Peter dashed off and while he ran for the droshky the two opponents sat on the ground and kept silent. Pavel Petrovich tried not to look at Bazarov. He had no wish to be reconciled with him. He was ashamed of his arrogance and his failure, ashamed of the whole enterprise, although he also felt it couldn't have ended in a more satisfactory way. At least he won't be seen around here any longer, he comforted himself, and one can be thankful for that. The silence continued, oppressive and awkward. Both of them felt in the wrong. Each of them knew that the other understood him. For friends this knowledge is pleasant, and for enemies it is particularly unpleasant, especially when there can be neither explanation, nor any chance of escaping each other.

[Fathers and Sons, Turgenev, I.]

...of friends at odds

In silence, only occasionally exchanging a few unimportant words, our friends travelled to Fedot's. Bazarov was not entirely satisfied with himself. Arkady was dissatisfied with him. In addition, he felt in his heart that pointless sadness which is familiar only to those who are very young. The coachman changed the horses and, climbing on to his box, asked which way: right or left?

[Fathers and Sons, Turgenev, I.]

...of reminiscence

Here they are, those traces of class-consciousness and privilege! he thought in a flash. Without saying a word Fenechka peered into the arbour at him and then disappeared and he noted with astonishment that night had already fallen since he'd begun day-dreaming. Everything had grown dark and silent around him, and Fenechka's face had seemed to glide before his eyes, so pale and small. He rose to his feet and made an effort to return to the house, but his heart, grown so tender with reminiscence, could not be calmed in his breast and he started walking slowly up and down the garden, either looking thoughtfully down at his feet or raising his eyes to the sky where stars already swarmed and winked at each other. He walked to and fro a great deal, almost to the point of exhaustion, but the sense of peril within him, a kind of searching, indefinite, melancholy disquiet, would not lessen. Oh, how Bazarov would have laughed at him if he'd known what was going on inside him at that moment! Arkady himself would have condemned him. Tears, pointless tears were forming in his eyes, in the eyes of a man of forty-four, an agronomist and landowner - and that was a hundred times worse than playing the cello!

[Fathers and Sons, Turgenev, I.]

...of a hallucination

Was it just something he imagined? He had already begun to doubt. But it made no difference - he was spellbound and it was not an evil spell. Then something began to vibrate. Soundlessly. But still, it was a vibrating and a ringing and a magic song. In his glade.

It became still stranger. He saw the angelica begin to whirl so that the screens of blossoms crackled - and he was immediately sure where the snake lay hidden. Up there! Right there! He could not take his eyes off the spot. A few tufts of grass. The snake was in there, and he had to go up there -

[Spring Night, Vesaas, T.]

...of adolescence

I know more than anyone thinks!

That's the way you shouted when you were fourteen years old and did as you pleased. But it never came to anything, he could not get it out. Even though he had full freedom to sing out so Sissel heard. He stood there for a while and let his silent cry sink into him and into the air around him. He felt the unspoken words running up and down his spine.

[Spring Night, Vesaas, T.]