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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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Above all, do not lie to yourself. A man who lies to himself and listens to his own lie comes to a point where he does not discern any truth either in himself or anywhere around him, and thus falls into disrespect towards himself and others. Not respecting anyone, he ceases to love, and having no love, he gives himself up to passions and coarse pleasures, in order to occupy and amuse himself, and in his vices reaches complete
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Para el realista no es la fe lo que nace del milagro, sino el milagro el que nace de la fe.
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Ahelyett, hogy birtokba vetted volna az emberek szabadságát, még nagyobbra növelted! Vagy elfelejtetted, hogy az ember a nyugalmat, sőt akár a halált is többre becsüli, mint a szabad választást a jó és a gonosz megismerésében? Nincsen csábítóbb az ember számára, mint lelkiismeretének szabadsága, de nincs gyötrelmesebb sem.
topics: freedom  
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...for love in action is a harsh and dreadful thing compared with love in dreams. Love in dreams is greedy for immediate action, rapidly performed and in the sight of all... But active love is labor and fortitude, and for some people too, perhaps, a complete science.
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bestiality, and it all comes from lying continually to others and to himself. A man who lies to himself is often the first to take offense. It sometimes feels very good to take offense, doesn’t it? And surely he knows that no one has offended him, and that he himself has invented the offense and told lies just for the beauty of it, that he has exaggerated for the sake of effect, that he has picked on a word and made a mountain out of a pea—he knows all of that, and still he is the first to take offense, he likes feeling offended, it gives him great pleasure, and thus he reaches the point of real hostility …
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I could never understand how one can love one’s neighbours. It’s just one’s neighbours, to my mind, that one can’t love, though one might love those at a distance. I
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Az a förtelmes mocsár, amelybe önszántából belesüllyedt, túlságosan nyomasztotta, és mint ilyen esetben nagyon sokan, ő is a helyváltoztatásban bízott a leginkább: csak ne ezek az emberek, csak ne ezek a körülmények, csak elrepülni erről az átkozott helyről - és minden újjászületik, másképp alakul!
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I would be offended if he were not jealous. I am like that. I am not offended at jealousy.
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Añade que le he querido durante una hora, sólo durante una hora; pero que se acuerde siempre de esta hora. Y
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... even the martyr loves sometimes to have fun with it's desperation, and that is, again, from desperation.
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But hesitation, anxiety, the struggle between belief and disbelief—all that is sometimes such a torment for a conscientious man like yourself, that it’s better to hang oneself. Precisely because I knew you had a tiny bit of belief in me, I let in some final disbelief, by telling you that anecdote. I’m leading you alternately between belief and disbelief, and I have my own purpose in doing so. A new method, sir: when you’ve completely lost faith in me, then you’ll immediately start convincing me to my face that I am not a dream but a reality—I know you now; and then my goal will be achieved. And it is a noble goal. I will sow a just a tiny seed of faith in you, and from it an oak will grow—and such an oak that you, sitting in that oak, will want to join ‘the desert fathers and the blameless women’; because secretly you want that ver-ry, ver-ry much, you will dine on locusts, you will drag yourself to the desert to seek salvation!
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People should be nourished like children, and some of them like the patients in the hospitals.
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Yes, guilty!” And then it was the same on each point:
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Anyway, I give you my blessing; see if you can get at the truth, and come back and tell me: after all, it’ll be easier to make the trip to the next world once you know for sure what’s there.
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Life is paradise, and we are all in paradise, but we don't want to realize it, and if we did care to realize it, paradise would be established in all the world tomorrow.
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One can love one's neighbors in the abstract, or even at a distance, but at close quarters it's almost impossible. If
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How can we blame children if they measure us according to our measure?
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Entonces comprendió Levin por primera vez lo que no había comprendido cuando salió con ella de la iglesia después de la boda; a saber, que esa mujer estaba tan cerca de él que ya no sabía donde acababa ella y dónde empezaba él.
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She heard Vronsky's impetuous ring and hastily wiped her tears, and not only wiped them but sat down by the lamp and opened the book, pretending to be calm. She had to show him that she was displeased that he had not come back as he had promised, only displeased, but in no way show him her grief and least of all her self-pity. She might have pity for herself, but not he for her. She did not want to fight, she reproached him for wanting to fight, but involuntarily she herself assumed a fighting position.
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She said to herself: “No, just now I can’t think of it, later on, when I am calmer.” But this calm for thought never came; every time the thought rose of what she had done and what would happen to her, and what she ought to do, a horror came over her and she drove those thoughts away. “Later, later,” she said—“when I am calmer.
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