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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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إن المصابين بمرض الفكرة الثابتة يجعلون من الفأرة جبلا، ويرون أشياء كثيرة حيث لا يوجد شيء البتة !
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Marriage is the moral death of every proud soul, of all independence.
topics: marriage  
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How does it come about that what an intelligent man expresses is much stupider than what remains inside him?
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is sheer perfection as a work of art. No European work of fiction of our present day comes anywhere near it. Furthermore, the idea underlying it shows that it is ours, ours, something that belongs to us alone and that is our own property, our own national 'new word'or, at any rate, the beginning of it.
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إن قطعة الخبز تبدو لنا دائما أكبر مما هي في الواقع حين نراها في يد غيرنا
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I think that to find out what love is really like, one must first make a mistake and then put it right.
topics: anna-karenina , love  
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و أدركت بطلان رأيها في أن الرداء هو عماد المرأة ومقوّم جمالها ، فالمرأة الجميلة جميلة مهما لبست ومهما ارتدت، ولن يزيدها اللباس الحسن إلا أناقة
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Being in love doesn't mean loving.
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My brother asked the birds to forgive him: that sounds senseless, but it is right; for all is like an ocean, all is flowing and blending; a touch in one place sets up movement at the other end of the earth. It may be senseless to beg forgiveness of the birds, but birds would be happier at your side –a little happier, anyway– and children and all animals, if you yourself were nobler than you are now. It’s all like an ocean, I tell you. Then you would pray to the birds too, consumed by an all-embracing love in a sort of transport, and pray that they too will forgive you your sin.
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هل تدرك يا سيدي العزيز ما معنى أن لا يعرف الإنسان إلى أين يذهب ؟ ذلك أنه لابد لكل إنسان أن يستطيع الذهاب إلى مكان ما.
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in despair there are the most intense enjoyments, especially when one is very acutely conscious of the hopelessness of one's position.
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And you're sorry that the ephemeral beauty has faded so rapidly, so irretrievably, that it flashed so deceptively and pointlessly before your eyes--you're sorry, for you didn't even have time to fall in love...
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A man who lies to himself, and believes his own lies, becomes unable to recognize truth, either in himself or in anyone else, and he ends up losing respect for himself and for others. When he has no respect for anyone, he can no longer love, and in him, he yields to his impulses, indulges in the lowest form of pleasure, and behaves in the end like an animal in satisfying his vices. And it all comes from lying — to others and to yourself.
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Drowning men, it is said, cling to wisps of straw.
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After all, bluff and real emotion exist so easily side by side.
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Who knows, he may grow up to be President someday, unless they hang him first!" Aunt Polly about Tom Sawyer
topics: boys , humor  
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لم أستطع أن أصبح أي شيء، لم أستطع أن أصبح حتى شريرا. ولا خبيثا ولا طيبا، ولا دنيئا ولا شريفا، لا بطلا، ولا حشرة، وأنا اليوم في هذا الركن الصغير، أختم حياتي، محاولا أن اواسي نفسي بعزاء لا طائل فيه، قائلا أن الرجل الذكي لا يفلح قط في أن يصبح شيئا، وأن الغبي وحده يصل إلى ذلك
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What matters," said the prince at last, "is that you have a child's trusting nature and extraordinary truthfulness. Do you know that a great deal can be forgiven you for that alone?
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People who can speak well, speak briefly.
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Is it not possible to eat me without insisting that I sing praises of my devourer?
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