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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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the Lord God has given us so little time, only twenty-four hours in the day, so that one hasn’t even time to get sleep enough, much less to repent of one’s sins.
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When it comes to poetry, it’s a lot of rubbish. Just think about it: who in the world speaks in rhyme?
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Love in dreams is greedy for immediate action, rapidly performed and in the sight of all.
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He was not even particularly struck by the Pole’s absurd wig made in Siberia, with love-locks foolishly combed forward over the temples.
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Of course, in the monastery he believed absolutely in miracles, but in my opinion miracles never bother a realist. It is not miracles that incline a realist towards faith. A true realist, if he is a non-believer, will always find within himself the strength and the ability not to believe in miracles, and if he is faced with a miracle as an incontrovertible fact he will sooner disbelieve his own senses than accept the fact.
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I love some great deeds done by men, though I've long ceased perhaps to have faith in them, yet from old habit one's heart prizes them.
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These spoilt fine ladies, if they set their hearts on anything, will spare no expense to satisfy their caprice.
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In brief there was every appearance of gentility on straitened means.
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and it would have been an excellent thing if we’d have been conquered by the French; an intelligent nation would have overpowered a thoroughly stupid one and annexed it. Everything would have been different.
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he was already to some extent a youth of our times—in other words, naturally honest, insisting on truth, seeking it and believing in it, and, once believing, demanding instant commitment to it with all the strength of his soul and wanting to rush off and perform great deeds, sacrificing all, if necessary even life itself.
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Throughout the world, the more wrong a man does, the more indignant is he at wrong done to him.
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kneaded this social dough
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Es una estupidez dejarse dominar por el pasado; es preciso luchar para vivir mejor, mucho mejor.
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Well, there’s nothing to be done … It’s not my fault. But now everything shall go on in a new way. It’s nonsense to pretend that life won’t allow it, that the past won’t allow it. One must struggle to live better, much better.
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..а един друг глас в душата му казваше,че човек не трябва да се подчинява на миналото и че може да направи всичко със себе си.
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Only Anna felt sad. She knew that when Dolly was gone no one would call up in her soul the feelings which had been aroused by their meeting. To have those feelings awakened was painful, but still she knew that they were the best part of her soul, and that that part of her was rapidly being choked by the life she was leading.
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when things are made awkward by people’s excessive compliance and submission, they are soon made unbearable by their excessive demandingness and fault-finding.
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Yapılması gereken tek şey, hedefe doğru inatla yürümek, o zaman hedefime ulaşırım.
topics: sy-450  
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Ach, het is maar weinig, de dood!' dacht zij; 'ik ga wat slapen, en dan is alles uit!' Zij dronk een slok water en keerde zich naar de muur. Die afschuwelijke inktsmaak hield maar aan. 'Ik heb dorst!... O, wat heb ik een dorst!' zuchtte zij. 'Wat heb je toch?' vroeg Charles en reikte haar een glas aan. 'Niets!... Zet het raam open... Ik stik hier!' En zij kreeg plotseling zo'n aanval van misselijkheid dat zij nauwelijks tijd had om haar zakdoek onder haar kussen vandaan te halen. 'Neem hem mee!' zei ze haastig; 'gooi weg!' Hij stelde haar vragen; zij antwoordde niet. Ze bleef stil liggen, bang dat ze bij de minste beweging zou overgeven. Intussen voelde zij een ijzige kou optrekken van haar voeten naar haar hart. 'Ach, nu begint het!' mompelde zij.
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Je ne les ai pas ! répondit Rodolphe avec ce calme parfait dont se recouvrent comme d’un bouclier les colères résignées.
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