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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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Un uomo, se non altro, è libero; può percorrere passioni e paesi, attraversare gli ostacoli, afferrare le gioie più remote. Ma per una donna ci sono ostacoli di ogni tipo. Inerte e flessibile insieme, ha contro di sé le debolezze della carne e le costrizioni della legge. La sua volontà, come il velo del suo cappello trattenuto da un cordoncino, palpita a tutti i venti; c’è sempre qualche desiderio che la trascina e qualche convenienza che tuttavia la trattiene.
topics: man-vs-woman  
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Su corazón, como la gente que no puede soportar más que una cierta dosis de música, se adormecía de indiferencia en el estrépito de un amor cuyas delicadezas ya no distinguía.
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Léon was weary of loving without any outcome; and he began to feel that extreme depression which the repetition of the same way of living induces in you, when no interests shape it and no hope sustains it. He was so bored of Yonville and of the Yonvillais, that the sight of certain people, of certain houses, irritated him beyond endurance; and the pharmacist, easy fellow though he was, had become completely insufferable to him.
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Accustomed to the calm aspects of things, she turned, instead, toward the more tumultuous. She loved the sea only for its storms, and greenery only when it grew up here and there among ruins. She needed to derive from things a sort of personal gain; and she rejected as useless everything that did not contribute to the immediate gratification of her heart, —being by temperament more sentimental than artistic, in search of emotions and not landscapes.
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Porque labios libertinos o venales le habían murmurado frases semejantes, no creía sino débilmente en el candor de las mismas; había que rebajar, pensaba él, los discursos exagerados que ocultan afectos mediocres; como si la plenitud del alma no se desbordara a veces por las metáforas más vacías, puesto que nadie puede jamás dar la exacta medida de sus necesidades, ni de sus conceptos, ni de sus dolores, y la palabra humana es como un caldero cascado en el que tocamos melodías para hacer bailar a los osos, cuando quisiéramos conmover a las estrellas.
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Charles’s conversation was as flat as a sidewalk, and everyone’s ideas filed along it in their ordinary clothes, exciting no emotion, no laughter, no reverie
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Je ne vous en veux pas, dit-il. Rodolphe était resté muet. Et Charles, la tête dans ses deux mains, reprit d’une voix éteinte et avec l’accent résigné des douleurs infinies : – Non, je ne vous en veux plus ! Il ajouta même un grand mot, le seul qu’il ait jamais dit : – C’est la faute de la fatalité ! Rodolphe, qui avait conduit cette fatalité, le trouva bien débonnaire pour un homme dans sa situation, comique même, et un peu vil.
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This man could teach you nothing; he knew nothing, he wished for nothing. He took it for granted that she was content; and she resented his settled calm, his serene dullness, the very happiness she herself brought to him.
topics: madame-bovary  
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Din adamı duasını okudu, başparmağını kutsal yağa batırdı ve bunu sürmeye başladı. Önce yeryüzü görkemlerine ve nimetlerine o kadar göz diken gözlerinin ùzerine, Sonra ılık meltemleri , aşk dolu kokuları pek seven burun deliklerinin üzerine, Yalan için açılan, kibirle inim inim inleyen, şehvet bağıran ağzının üzerine, En sonunda da eskiden tutkularını doyurmak için koşarken o kadar hızlı giden, Şimdi artık bir daha yürüyemecek olan ayaklarının tabanlarına.
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But shouldn’t a man know everything, excel at a host of different activities, initiate you into the intensities of passion, the refinements of life, all its mysteries? Yet this man taught her nothing, knew nothing, wished for nothing. He thought she was happy; and she resented him for that settled calm, that ponderous serenity, that very happiness which she herself brought him.
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Il tomba par terre. Il était mort. Trente-six heures après, sur la demande
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Poor thing! She had loved him, after all.
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ca şi cum preaplinul sufletului nu s-ar revărsa câteodată prin metaforele cele mai găunoase, fiindcă nimeni, niciodată, nu poate da măsură exactă a nevoilor, nici a concepţiilor, nici a durerilor sale, iar cuvântul omenesc este ca un ceaun dogit în care batem ritmuri de ursari, când de fapt am râvni să înduioşăm stelele.
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Atlarını çift sürmeye gönderecek yerde üzerlerine bindiğinden , Elma şarabın satacak yerde kendini içtiğinden, Kümesinin en besili hayvanlarını yediğinden, Av çizmelerini domuzlarının içyağıyla yağladığından bütün ticareti olduğu yerde bırakıvermenin daha iyi olacağını anlamakta gecikmedi.
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But her own life was as cold as an attic with a north-facing window, and boredom, that silent spider, was spinning its web in the darkness in every corner of
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A man, at any rate, is free. He can explore the passions and the continents, can surmount obstacles, reach out to the most distant joys. Whereas a woman is constantly thwarted. At once inert and pliant, she has to contend with both physical weakness and legal subordination. Her will is like the veil on her bonnet, fastened by a single string and quivering at every breeze that blows. Always there is a desire that impels and a convention that restrains.
topics: feminism  
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Io ho una religione, la mia religione, ne ho anche più di tutti loro, con le loro buffonate e i loro imbrogli! Anzi, io Dio l’adoro! Credo nell’Essere supremo, in un Creatore, uno qualunque, chi sia non ha importanza, comunque uno che ci ha messi quaggiù per adempiervi ai nostri doveri di cittadini e di padri di famiglia; ma non sento nessun bisogno di andare in una chiesa a baciare vassoi d’argento e a ingrassare di tasca mia una manica di buffoni che campano molto meglio di noi! Perché Dio lo si può onorare altrettanto bene in mezzo a un bosco, in un campo, oppure contemplando la volta celeste come facevano gli antichi. Il Dio in cui credo io è quello di Socrate, di Franklin, di Voltaire e di Béranger! Sono per La professione di fede del vicario savoiardo e per gli immortali principi del ’89! No, non lo posso ammettere un povero diavolo di Padreterno che se ne va in giro per il suo giardino con il bastone in mano, che ospita i suoi amici nel ventre delle balene, muore emettendo un grido e in capo a tre giorni resuscita: tutte assurdità in contrasto, tra l’altro, con le leggi della fisica; il che ci dimostra, tra parentesi, che i preti hanno sempre sguazzato in una torbida ignoranza in cui vorrebbero trascinare anche i popoli.
topics: religion  
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Il fait une clientèle d’enfer ; l’autorité le ménage et l’opinion publique le protège. Il vient de recevoir la croix d’honneur.
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tassait
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Love, she thought, must come suddenly, with great outbursts and lightnings—a hurricane of the skies, which falls upon life, revolutionises it, roots up the will like a leaf,
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