Inspirational Quotes by Fyodor Dostoevsky

“Love one another, Fathers,’ said Father Zossima, as far as Alyosha could remember afterwards. ‘Love God’s people. Because we have come here and shut ourselves within these walls, we are no holier than those that are outside, but on the contrary, from the very fact of coming here, each of us has confessed to himself that he is worse than others, than all men on earth.... And the longer the monk lives in his seclusion, the more keenly he must recognise that. Else he would have had no reason to come here. When he realises that he is not only worse than others, but that he is responsible to all men for all and everything, for all human sins, national and individual, only then the aim of our seclusion is attained. For know, dear ones, that every one of us is undoubtedly responsible for all men — and everything on earth, not merely through the general sinfulness of creation, but each one personally for all mankind and every individual man. This knowledge is the crown of life for the monk and for every man. For monks are not a special sort of men, but only what all men ought to be. Only through that knowledge, our heart grows soft with infinite, universal, inexhaustible love. Then every one of you will have the power to win over the whole world by love and to wash away the sins of the world with your tears.... Each of you keep watch over your heart and confess your sins to yourself unceasingly. Be not afraid of your sins, even when perceiving them, if only there be penitence, but make no conditions with God. Again, I say, be not proud. Be proud neither to the little nor to the great. Hate not those who reject you, who insult you, who abuse and slander you. Hate not the atheists, the teachers of evil, the materialists — and I mean not only the good ones — for there are many good ones among them, especially in our day — hate not even the wicked ones. Remember them in your prayers thus: Save, O Lord, all those who have none to pray for them, save too all those who will not pray. And add: it is not in pride that I make this prayer, O Lord, for I am lower than all men.... Love God’s people, let not strangers draw away the flock, for if you slumber in your slothfulness and disdainful pride, or worse still, in covetousness, they will come from all sides and draw away your flock. Expound the Gospel to the people unceasingly... be not extortionate.... Do not love gold and silver, do not hoard them.... Have faith. Cling to the banner and raise it on high.”

“When I do leap into the pit, I go headlong with my heels up, and am pleased to be falling in that degrading attitude, and pride myself upon it. And in the very depths of that degradation I begin a hymn of praise. Let me be accursed. Let me be vile and base, only let me kiss the hem of the veil in which my God is shrouded. Though I may be following the devil, I am Thy son, O Lord, and I love Thee, and I feel the joy without which the world cannot stand.”

“He never did anything to me it’s true, but I once played a most shameless nasty trick on him, and the moment I did it, I immediately hated him for it.”

“But he did love people; he lived all his life, it seemed, with complete faith in people, and yet no one ever considered him either naive or a simpleton. There was something in him that told one, that convinced one (and it was so all his life afterwards) that he did not want to be a judge of men, that he would not take judgment upon himself and would not condemn anyone for anything. It seemed, even, that he accepted everything without the least condemnation, though often with deep sadness. Moreover, in this sense he even went so far that no one could either surprise or frighten him, and this even in his very early youth.”

“There were rats in it, but Fyodor Pavlovich was not altogether angry with them:”

“Thou didst not come down from the Cross when they shouted to Thee, mocking and reviling Thee, "Come down from the Cross and we will believe that Thou art He.”

“Rodolphe ouvira tantas vezes dizer tais coisas que elas nada mais tinham de original para ele. Emma assemelhava-se a todas as suas amantes; e o encanto da novidade, caindo pouco a pouco como uma veste, deixava ver a nu a eterna monotonia da paixão que tem sempre as mesmas formas e a mesma linguagem. Aquele homem tão experiente não distinguia mais a diferença dos sentimentos sob a igualdade das expressões. Porque lábios libertinos ou venais lhe haviam murmurado frases semelhantes, ele mal acreditava em sua candura; era preciso, pensava, descontar suas palavras exageradas, escondendo as afeições medíocres: como se a plenitude da alma não transbordasse algumas vezes nas metáforas mais vazias, já que ninguém pode algum dia exprimir exatamente suas necessidades ou seus conceitos, nem suas dores e já que a palavra humana é como um caldeirão rachado, no qual batemos melodias próprias para fazer danças os ursos quando desejaríamos enternecer as estrelas. Porém, com a superioridade crítica de quem, em qualquer compromisso, se mantém na retaguarda, Rodolphe percebeu naquele amor a possibilidade de explorar outros gozos. Julgou todo pudor como algo incômodo. Tratou-a sem cerimonia. Fez dela algo de maleável e de corrompido. Era uma espécie de afeto idiota cheio de admiração para ele, de volúpia para ela, uma beatitude que a entorpecia; e sua alma afundava naquela embriaguez e nela se afogava, encarquilhada (...)”

“the Welshman allowed it to eat into the vitals of his visitors,”

“Our own humble and meek ones, fasters and keepers of silence, will arise and go forth for a great deed.”

“Cred ca era ora unu noaptea cand m-am trezit pe strada. Era o noapte clara, linistita si geroasa. Aproape ca alergam, ma grabeam tare, dar nu ma duceam acasa. "De ce m-as duce acasa? Oare acum pot avea casa? In casa se traieste, maine m-as trezi ca sa traiesc, dar oare asta e posibil acum? Viata s-a sfarsit, nu mai pot trai". Asa am ratacit pe strazi, nestiind unde merg si nici nu stiu daca voiam sa ajung undeva. "Acum, nicio actiune, mi se parea in acel moment, nu poate avea vreun scop." Si lucru ciudat : mi se parea ca in jurul meu toate, chiar si aerul pe care-l respiram, era de pe alta planeta, de parca brusc nimerisem pe luna. Toate - orasul, trecatorii, trotoarul pe care fugeam, toate nu mai erau ale mele. "Uite, aici e Piata Palatului, aici - Catedrala Sfantului Isac, imi trecu prin minte,dar acum nu mai am nicio legatura cu ele; totul pare ca s-a instrainat, nimic nu mai este al meu. O am pe mama, pe Liza - dar ce importanta are, ce sa fac eu acum cu mama si cu Liza? Totul s-a sfarsit, totul s-a sfarsit deodata, in afara unui singur lucru : sunt un hot, pe vecie. "Cum sa dovedesc ca nu sunt hot ? Oare mai pot s-o fac acum? Sa plec in America? Si ce-as dovedi cu asta? Versilov va fi primul care va crede ca am furat ! << Ideea >> ? Care << idee >> ? Ce mai inseamna acum << ideea >> ? Peste cincizeci de ani, peste o suta de ani, cand voi trece, mereu se va gandi un om care, aratand spre minr, va spune : Uite, asta e un hot. Si-a inceput << ideea >> furand ..." Simteam oare ranchiuna? Nu stiu, poate ca da. Straniu, totdeauna, poate ca inca din frageda copilarie, am avut aceasta trasatura de caracter : daca mi se facea un rau, daca duceau acest rau pana la limita sau ma jigneau insuportabil, totdeauna aparea dorinta de neatins de a ma supune pasiv jignirii si chiar de a implini dinainte dorintele celui care ma jignea : "Poftim, daca voi m-ati umilit, eu ma umilesc si mai abitir, uitati-va, admirati !”

“when my grave if filled, crumble a piece of bread on it, so that the sparrows will come down and cheer me up”

“If the evil-doing of men moves you to indignation and overwhelming distress, even to a desire for vengeance on the evil-doers, shun above all things that feeling. Go at once and seek suffering for yourself, as though you were yourself guilty of that wrong. Accept that suffering and bear it and your heart will find comfort, and you will understand that you too are guilty, for you might have been a light to the evil-doers, even as the one man sinless, and you were not a light to them. If you had been a light, you would have lightened the path for others too, and the evil-doer might perhaps have been saved by your light from his sin. And even though your light was shining, yet you see men were not saved by it, hold firm and doubt not the power of the heavenly light.”

“Mantu sakrāts vairāk, bet prieka palicis mazāk.”

“He had come to us only three years earlier, but had already won general sympathy, mainly because he “knew how to bring society together.” His house was never without guests, and it seemed he would have been unable to live without them. He had to have guests to dinner every day, even if only two, even if only one, but without guests he would not sit down to eat. He gave formal dinners, too, under all sorts of pretexts, sometimes even the most unexpected. The food he served, though not refined, was abundant, the cabbage pies were excellent, and the wines made up in quantity for what they lacked in quality. In the front room stood a billiard table, surrounded by quite decent furnishings; that is, there were even paintings of English racehorses in black frames on the walls, which, as everyone knows, constitute a necessary adornment of any billiard room in a bachelor’s house.”

“Es que cuando somos desgraciados sentimos más agudamente la desgracia ajena. El sentimiento no se dispersa, sino que se reconcentra.”

“Love in dreams is greedy for immediate action, rapidly performed and in the sight of all. Men will even give their lives if only the ordeal does not last long but is soon over, with all looking on and applauding as though on the stage. But active love is labor and fortitude, and for some people too, perhaps, a complete science.”

“She confused in her desire the sensualities of luxury with the delights of the heart, elegance of manners with delicacy of sentiment. Did not love, like Indian plants, need a special soil,”

“But the Church, like a mother, tender and loving, withholds from active punishment, for even without her punishment, the wrongdoer is already too painfully punished by the state court, and at least someone should pity him.”

“The people are drinking, the educated youth are burning themselves up in idleness, in unrealizable dreams and fancies, crippling themselves with theories; Yids come flocking from somewhere, hiding the money away, and the rest of it falls into depravity.”

“He waked up late next day after a broken sleep. But his sleep had not refreshed him; he waked up bilious, irritable, ill-tempered, and looked with hatred at his room. It was a tiny cupboard of a room about six paces in length. It had a poverty-stricken appearance with its dusty yellow paper peeling off the walls, and it was so low-pitched that a man of more than average height was ill at ease in it and felt every moment that he would knock his head against the ceiling. The furniture was in keeping with the room: there were three old chairs, rather rickety; a painted table in the corner on which lay a few manuscripts and books; the dust that lay thick upon them showed that they had been long untouched. A big clumsy sofa occupied almost the whole of one wall and half the floor space of the room; it was once covered with chintz, but was now in rags and served Raskolnikov as a bed. Often he went to sleep on it, as he was, without undressing, without sheets, wrapped in his old student's overcoat, with his head on one little pillow, under which he heaped up all the linen he had, clean and dirty, by way of a bolster. A little table stood in front of the sofa.”