| You won't fail me, will you? Third Night: The narrator gradually realizes that despite his assurance that their friendship would remain platonic, he has inevitably fallen in love with her | Chivalry and hormones lead to an effusion of dialogue |
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| The best passages in the novella are saved for last, and are adressed directly to the readers, urging us to seize the day and make hay while we're young: Where have you buried your best days? My infatuation with White Nights comes by way of Italy and through the vision of Luchino Visconti, who adaptaded the story for the silver screen | Why, isn't that enough for a whole lifetime? However, in this particular moment, I think fate spoke to me |
Each knows everything about the other, and they are as sweet as they can be, each to the other.
9| Alas, somebody else has awakened these tender feelings in her life, and our narrator pretty soon discovers how it feels to be put firmly in the friendzone | He loves the city at night, and feels comfortable in it |
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| I believe the farther north you go the more pronounced the phenomenon becomes, changing from polar day to the polar night several months of constant sunlight and then several months of comlete darkness | Petersburg is sometimes called the Venice of the North among others like Oslo, Amsterdam or Brugges , it is probably fitting that the Italian film maker choose Venice as the backdrop of the romance I must have seen this movie at least ten times, before going to the source material and falling under its spell all over again |
| He daydreams in 3d with vivid colors passionate intricate tales that engross him completely, to This story, really a novella, is the one I use to introduce people to Dostoyevsky | He no longer feels comfortable during the day because all the people he is used to seeing are not there |
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| But her story, enchanting and delicate and filled with longing as it may be, is much more coherent and focused on practicalities | Leave it to Uncle Fyodor to delver such a wrenching tale of humiliation, albeit one splashed with a chance love and a lather of anguished poetry |
He, of course, has not received "All of a sudden it seemed to me as though I, the solitary one, had been forsaken by the whole world, and that the whole world would have nothing to do with me.