Fyodor Dostoevsky, fully Fyodor Mikhaylovich Dostoevsky or Feodor Mikhailovich Dostoevski

Dostoevsky, fully Fyodor Mikhaylovich Dostoevsky or Feodor Mikhailovich Dostoevski

Russian Novelist, Short-Story Writer and Essayist best known for his novels Crime and Punishment, The Idiot and The Brothers Karamazov

Author Quotes

What a book this is, and what lessons there are in it! What a book is Holy Scripture, what a miracle and what a strength is given to man with it! Like a sculpture composed of the world, of man and human characters, and it has all been named and explained for the ages, ever more. And how many mysteries are resolved and revealed..." (Concerning Holy Scripture in the Life of Fr. Zosima)

What is most mortifying of all is that it is chance - simply a barbarous, lagging chance. That is what is mortifying! Five minutes, only five minutes too late! Had I come five minutes earlier, the moment would have passed away like a cloud, and it would never have entered her head again. And it would have ended by her understanding it all. But now again empty rooms, and me alone. Here the pendulum is ticking; it does not care, it has no pity... There is no one - that's the misery of it!

When all are undressed, one is somehow not ashamed, but when one's the only one undressed and everybody is looking, it's degrading,' he kept repeating to himself, again and again. 'It's like a dream, I've sometimes dreamed of being in such degrading positions.' It was a misery to him to take off his socks. They were very dirty, and so were his underclothes, and now everyone could see it. And what was worse, he disliked his feet. All his life he had thought both his big toes hideous. He particularly loathed the coarse, flat, crooked nail on the right one, and now they would all see it. Feeling intolerably ashamed made him, at once and intentionally, rougher. He pulled off his shirt, himself.

Whoever has experienced the power and the unrestrained ability to humiliate another human being automatically loses his own sensations. Tyranny is a habit, it has its own organic life, it develops finally into a disease. The habit can kill and coarsen the very best man or woman to the level of a beast. Blood and power intoxicate... the return of the human dignity, repentance and regeneration becomes almost impossible.

Without a clear perception of his reasons for living, man will never consent to live, and will rather destroy himself than tarry on earth, though he be surrounded with bread".

Yet there have been and still are mathematicians and philosophers who doubt whether the whole universe, or to speak more widely, the whole of being, was only created in Euclid's geometry. They even dare to dream that two parallel lines, which according to Euclid can never meet on earth, may meet somewhere in infinity.

What answer had your lecturer in Moscow to make to the question why he was forging notes? 'Everybody is getting rich one way or another, so I want to make haste to get rich too.' I don't remember the exact words, but the upshot was that he wants money for nothing, without waiting or working! We've grown used to having everything ready-made, to walking on crutches, to having our food chewed for us. Then the great hour struck, and every man showed himself in his true colours.

What is most vile and despicable about money is that it even confers talent. And it will do so until the end of the world.

When I am upstairs in my little garret I have only to remember and imagine the rustle of your dress, and I am ready to bite off my hands.

Whoever infringes upon individual 'charity' infringes upon man's nature and scorns his personal dignity.

Without a firm idea of himself and the purpose of his life, man cannot live, and would sooner destroy himself than remain on earth, even if he was surrounded by bread.

Yet, I didn't understand that she was intentionally disguising her feelings with sarcasm; that was usually the last resort of people who are timid and chaste of heart, whose souls have been coarsely and impudently invaded; and who, until the last moment, refuse to yield out of pride and are afraid to express their own feelings to you.

What are you thinking now? - Well, where are you going to get up and going to pass me, and I will follow you and look at you with eyes; going to crack the silk of your dress, my heart will fail, you will leave the room and I remember of each of the words you have spoken and the tone of voice with which you said. As for last night, I thought of nothing, I did nothing but listen to how breathed sleeping and how you moved in bed twice.

What is the goal of writing exactly? If it was not for the benefit of the public, why do not remember these incidents in my mind; without being written on paper? Is it right, but it will be more bombings if they were written, and will be in the possibility to criticize myself, and that the best my style. In addition to it Vstnahani writing a little bit, because I am today is very concerned about the incidents of the past came in my mind very clearly a few days ago and remained traders dominated on me like a disturbing tone cannot be salvation. However, I must get rid of them somehow, and I have hundreds of these memories, but this particular anniversary stands alone bother me too much. The reason I think that I can get rid of them if recorded on paper, so why not try? ... In addition, I am bored, and I do not have what I'm doing, and writing some kind of work makes a good-hearted man honest. This is an opportunity for me anyway.

When I fall into the abyss, I go straight into it, head down and heels up, and I’m even pleased that I’m falling in just such a humiliating position, and for me I find it beautiful. And so in that very shame I suddenly begin a hymn.

Why am I so stupid as all others are stupid and as I'm sure they are stupid, mandate I do not want to be wise?

Without God all things are permitted.

You are going to perform a virtuous deed, but you don't even believe in virtue--that's what makes you angry and torments you, that's why you're so vindictive.

What do you think prevented people killing themselves? - Just ... I do not know exactly ... beliefs they hold two blank, as if the two things, and only two things, one of which is very small, the other very large, with only a small or too big. - What is the little one? - Pain. - Pain Is? In this case, it is something that may be important pain? - First equally important. has committed suicide two types: those who commit suicide due to a huge pain or anger, those who committed suicide two berserk. They finish their work suddenly. Rarely think about the pain. Suddenly, everything ends. But this is a job sane, there are those who deliberately ... think that they are so... - Is there no way to die without pain? - Consider a rock the size of a big house, he said - and you can hang in the air of his right under the rock. Upon this rock ... falling down on your head ... Are you suffering from hear? - Household size is a rock? Sure to be a terrible thing. - Fear is pain Were not have mentioned? - Mountain as a rock ... Tens of thousands of tons of weight ... No pain duymazd?m think. - I'd be terrified all the time and stops the rock hanging over you. That there is no one who is not afraid. The world's largest knowledge the fear, the biggest the doctor. If he or she suffering from pain, but everybody knew duymayaca??n? k?vran?rd?. - What is the second reason? The big one? - the other world. - I mean, as a penalty for? - It does not matter. The other world here, only the other world. - What atheists do not believe in the afterlife? Still did not respond. - when there is no difference between living in liberated people avoid. That is the objective foreveryone. The point? Then who wants to live - no one. - He said with determination - Life is pain, life is fear, and man is unhappy. Today, there is only pain and fear. Mankind loves life, loves, because pain and fear. Try having the appropriate. Given in response to the pain and fear of life, this is where I always aldan?lan. Today's people, it is not more than human. But one day he will come new people: proud to live happily avoid the blind is no difference between the new human being. If the pain and fear that God is who will be the bottom. The other gods will not happen. - Then ... you have other gods? - I do not: but the fact that there is. The stone itself, there is no pain, but are suffering from fear of stone. Pain and fear of God, who is the bottom. this is a whole new life, a new person, which means that everything is new. - avoid to live according to a difference between everyone will just kill himself ... Get it changes you. - It does not matter. He will kill delusion. The real freedom, the actual independence of the person who wants to have to courage to kill himself ... The mystery of the person who dared to kill himself delusion is unlocked. This last point might be reached freedom, there is nothing beyond that. God can dare to kill himself. Today, anyone can do it, and so does God, so that you can destroy everything. But I did not do one more. - Millions of people are killed himself. - But they all killed themselves in fear. Fear not to kill. Fear to kill God himself will be killed.

What is the good of counting the days, when only one is enough for man to know the full happiness.

When I had that idea about the gaslights in the street, I glanced at the sky. It was very dark, but I could make out torn clouds and bottomless black gaps between them. Suddenly I noticed a little star in one of those gaps. I looked at it intently. That star reminded me that I wanted to kill myself. I decided I would go through with it that very night.

Why are they crying? Why are they crying? Mitya asks, flying past them at a great clip. The wee one, the driver answers, it's the wee one crying. And Mitya is struck that he has said it in his own peasant way: the wee one, and not the baby. And he likes it that the peasant has said wee one: there seems to be more pity in it. But why is it crying? Mitya insists, as if he were foolish, why are its little arms bare, why don't they wrap it up? The wee one's cold, its clothes are frozen, they don't keep it warm. But why is it so? Why? foolsih Mitya would not leave off. They're poor, burnt out, they've got no bread, they're begging for their burnt-down place. No, no, Mitya still seems not to understand, tell me: why are these burnt-out mothers standing here, why are the people poor, why is the wee one poor, why is the steppe bare, why don't they embrace and kiss, why don't they sing joyful songs, why are they blackened with such black misery, why don't they feed the wee one? And he feels within himself that, though his questions have no reason or sense, he still certainly wants to ask in just that way, and he should ask in just that way. And he also feels a tenderness such as he has never known before surging up in his heart, he wants to weep, he wants to do something for them all, so that the wee one will no longer cry, so that the blackened, dried-up mother of the wee one will not cry either, so that there will be no more tears in anyone from that moment on, and it must be done at once, at once, without delay and despite everything, with all his Karamazov unrestraint.

Woe to the man who offends a small child!

You are ill, he has an excess of goodness, and that goodness is precisely what exposes you to catch.

Well, good-bye! If the throttle sadness, the Merz. I have a concern than in spirit, Makar Aleksejeviç. Neither himself knows the reason. And such was somewhat day. Goodbye!

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Dostoevsky, fully Fyodor Mikhaylovich Dostoevsky or Feodor Mikhailovich Dostoevski
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Russian Novelist, Short-Story Writer and Essayist best known for his novels Crime and Punishment, The Idiot and The Brothers Karamazov