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

Very different is the monastic way. Obedience, fasting, and prayer are laughed at, yet they alone constitute the way to real and true freedom: I cut away my superfluous and unnecessary needs, through obedience I humble and chasten my vain and proud will, and thereby, with God’s help, attain freedom of spirit, and with that, spiritual rejoicing!

We are the people with the whims of tyrants. We do not forgive just a change in the face. God knows why this is the face that has changed.

We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken.

They sang the praises of nature, of the sea, of the woods. They liked making songs about one another, and praised each other like children; they were the simplest songs, but they sprang from their hearts and went to one's heart. And not only in their songs but in all their lives they seemed to do nothing but admire one another. It was like being in love with each other, but an all-embracing, universal feeling.

Those innocent eyes cut my soul like a razor...however, in a depraved man this, too, might be only a sensual attraction.

To be too conscious is an illness - a real thoroughgoing illness.

To strive consciously for an object and to engage in engineering -- that is, incessantly and eternally to make new roads, wherever they may lead.

Very often among a certain highly intelligent type of people, quite paradoxical ideas will establish themselves. But they have suffered so much in their lives for these ideas, and have paid so high a price for them that it becomes very painful, indeed almost impossible, for them to part with them.

We cannot love a man, but if it remains hidden from our view. Whenever Im not the face dissipated Love.

We took from him... proclaimed ourselves sole rulers of the earth, though we have not yet been able to complete our work.

They sat side by side, sad and weary, like shipwrecked sailors on a deserted shore.

Those were not the sounds of a violin, but that seemed a terrible voice had begun to roar, for the first time in our dark house. Perhaps my impressions were distorted and sick, maybe my feelings were shocked by everything I had witnessed, and already predisposed to feel terrible, full of torment with no escape: but I am firmly convinced that I heard groans, human cries, tears, a whole despair poured into those sounds. .

To begin with, at home I spent most of my time reading. I wanted to stifle all that was continuously boiling up inside me through external impressions. Out of all external impressions, reading was the only one possible for me. Of course, reading helped a lot - it excited, delighted and tormented me. But at times it bored me to death. For all that I still wanted to be doing things and I would suddenly plunge into dark, subterranean, vile, not so much depravity as petty dissipation. My mean, trivial, lusts were keen and fiery as a result of my constant, morbid irritability. The surges were hysterical, always accompanied by tears and convulsion. Apart from reading I had nowhere to turn - I mean, there was nothing in my surroundings that I could respect then or to… Read more

To whom is he to go if you are not together, mother and father?

Very often the only way it seems that there is no common points, and they have a very ... it's because of laziness human is that people are so Intermedia are sorted by eye and cannot find anything.

We degrade God too much, ascribing to him our ideas, in our vexation at being unable to understand Him.

They say that gentleness tremendous strength.

Though I do not believe in the order of things, still the sticky little leaves that come out in the spring are dear to me, the blue sky is dear to me, some people are dear to me, whom one loves sometimes, would you believe it, without even knowing why; some human deeds are dear to me, which one has perhaps long ceased believing in, but still honors with one's heart, out of old habit...

To care only for well-being seems to me positively ill-bred. Whether it’s good or bad, it is sometimes very pleasant, too, to smash things.

Tomorrow is the threat of nothingness, and will not be happy. This is an insult to the deep ... Therefore, I do not have to suffer and to be, in my mind that this is asking, and there are brazen nature of water beyond the plaintiff, the prosecutor and the defendant, along with myself, I'm doomed ... For I cannot destroy nature, I would just do it myself, there is no criminal endure a tyranny as weary.

Very well, I agree that two and two make four is an excellent thing; but...two and two make five is also a very fine thing too.

We degrade Providence too much by attributing our ideas to it out of annoyance at being unable to understand it.

They say that people standing on a height have an impulse to throw themselves down. I imagine that many suicides and murders have been committed simply because the revolver has been in the hand. It is like a precipice, with an incline of an angle of forty-five degrees, down which you cannot help sliding, and something impels you irresistibly to pull the trigger. But the knowledge that I had seen, that I knew it all, and was waiting for death at her hands without a word - might hold her back on the incline.

Though I have said that I envy the normal man to the point of exasperation, yet I would not care to be in his place as he is now (though I will not stop envying him. No, no; anyway the underground life is more advantageous!) There, at any rate, one can-- bah! But after all, even now I am lying! I am lying because I know myself as surely as two times two makes four, that it is not at all underground that is better, but something different, quite different, for which I long but which I cannot find! Damn underground!

To celebrate my first hour of freedom. It's been going on nearly six months, and all at once I've thrown it off. I could never have guessed, even yesterday how easy it would be to put an end to it if I wanted.

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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