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Fyodor Dostoevsky

Fyodor Dostoevsky


Fyodor Mikhaylovich Dostoyevsky was a Russian writer, essayist and philosopher, perhaps most recognized today for his novels Crime and Punishment and The Brothers Karamazov.

Dostoyevsky's literary output explores human psychology in the troubled political, social and spiritual context of 19th-century Russian society. Considered by many as a founder or precursor of 20th-century existentialism, his Notes from Underground (1864), written in the embittered voice of the anonymous "underground man", was called by Walter Kaufmann the "best overture for existentialism ever written."

His tombstone reads "Verily, Verily, I say unto you, Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit." from John 12:24, which is also the epigraph of his final novel, The Brothers Karamazov.
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Ogni volta, in qualunque momento le avessero domandato a cosa pensava, poteva rispondere senza errore: a una cosa sola, alla sua felicità e alla sua infelicità.
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Та мала ватра ма је спалила.
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I’m not one of those men who submit to uneasiness and worry without having the force of character to face them. "I must think it over, come to a decision, and put it out of my mind," he said aloud.
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I don't understand," he said, understanding her.
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Kitty felt that Anna was perfectly unaffected and was not trying to conceal anything, but that she lived in another, higher world full of complex poetic interests beyond Kitty’s reach.
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women are the pivot on which everything turns!
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I work, I want to do something, but I had forgotten it must all end; I had forgotten-death.
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And the most awful thing about it is that it’s all my fault—all my fault, though I’m not to blame.
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You have a wholesome character, and you want all of life to made up of wholesome phenomena, but that doesn't happen... All the variety, all the charm, all the beauty of life are made up of light and shade.
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Oblonsky’s tendency and opinions were not his by deliberate choice: they came of themselves, just as he did not choose the fashion of his hats or coats but wore those of the current style. Living in a certain social set, and having a desire, such as generally develops with maturity, for some kind of mental activity, he was obliged to hold views, just as he was obliged to have a hat. If he
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The longer Levin mowed, the more often he felt those moments of oblivion during which it was no longer his arms that swung the scythe, but the scythe itself that lent motion to his whole body, full of life and conscious of itself, and, as if by magic, without a thought of it, the work got rightly and neatly done on its own. These were the most blissful moments.
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When you've grasped the fact that today or tomorrow you will die and nothing will be left of you, everything becomes so insignificant.
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I know a gallant steed by tokens sure,      And by his eyes I know a youth in love,
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If the good has a cause, it is no longer the good; if it has a consequence - a reward - it is also not the good. Therefore the good is outside the chain of cause and effect.
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Evlenmeden önce gönlünde aşk uyandığını sanmıştı; fakat bu aşkın neticesi olması lazım gelen saadetten bir eser yoktu. İçinden: "Yanılmış olacağım" diyordu. Emma, bahtiyarlık, ihtiras, kendinden geçme gibi sözlerin, kitaplarda okuyup pek güzel bulduğu bu kelimelerin hayatta acaba neyin, hangi halin adı olduğunu düşünüp duruyordu.
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Lively once, expansive and affectionate, in growing older she had become (after the fashion of wine that, exposed to air, turns to vinegar) ill-tempered, grumbling, irritable. She
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In her desire, she confused the sensual pleasures of luxury with the joys of the heart, elegance of manner with delicacy of feeling.
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Entonces seguro de ser amado, no se molestó, e insensiblemente sus maneras cambiaron. Ya no empleaba como antes aquellas palabras tan dulces que la hacían llorar, ni aquellas vehementes caricias...de modo que su gran amor en el que vivía inmersa le pareció que iba descendiendo bajo sus pies...percibió el fango. No quería creerlo; redobló su ternura; y Rodolfo, cada vez menos, ocultó su indiferencia.
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She grew provoked at the doctrines of religion; the arrogance of the polemic writings displeased her by their inveteracy in attacking people she did not know; and the secular stories, relieved with religion, seemed to her written in such ignorance of the world, that they insensibly estranged her from the truths for whose proof she was looking. Nevertheless, she persevered; and when the volume slipped from her hands, she fancied herself seized with the finest Catholic melancholy that an ethereal soul could conceive.
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Talk? Well, it’s just Muff Potter, Muff Potter, Muff Potter all the time. It keeps me in a sweat, constant, so’s I want to hide som’ers.” “That’s just the same way they go on round me. I reckon he’s a goner. Don’t you feel sorry for him, sometimes?” “Most always—most always. He ain’t
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