There are... things which a man is afraid to tell even to himself, and every decent man has a number of such things stored away in his mind.

Fyodor Dostoevsky

Fyodor Dostoevsky

Profession: Author
Nationality: Russian

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That kind always has the public good as a motive to justify every abomination.

A new, sad and cheerless feeling constricted his heart; he suddenly realized that at that moment, and for a long time now, he had not been saying what he should have been saying, nor doing what he should have been doing, and that these cards he held in his hands, and had been so pleased about, could be of no help now.

Life is given to me only once, and never will be again—I don't want to sit waiting for universal happiness. I want to live myself; otherwise it's better not to live at all.

Don't forget the small things, above all, don't forget the small things—the smaller the trace, the more important it sometimes is.

A wise man is not afraid to face the truth.

You say I haven't any orginality. But mark this, dear Prince, there's nothing more annoying for a man of our time and race than to tell him he's not original, a weak character with no special talents, ordinary in other words. You didn't even deign to regard me as a genuine rogue, I felt like killing you for that just now, you know that?

Money is a kind of freedom that can be felt and heard; it is an inestimable treasure for a man entirely deprived of true liberty.

I swear to you, sirs, that excessive consciousness is a disease—a genuine, absolute disease. For everyday human existence it would more than suffice to have the ordinary share of human consciousness.

Love children especially, for they too are sinless like the angels; they live to soften and purify our hearts and, as it were, to guide us.

The righteous man departs, but his light remains.

Confinement, regulation, and excessive work have no effect but to develop in these men profound hatred, a thirst for forbidden enjoyment, and frightful recalcitration.

We here are unbelievers only out of carelessness, because we don't have time: first, we're too beset with business, and second, God gave us too little time, he only allotted twenty-four hours to a day, so that there isn't even time enough to sleep, let alone repent.

I don't even know what I'm writing, I have no idea, I don't know anything, and I'm not reading over it, and I'm not correcting my style, and I'm writing just for the sake of writing, just for the sake of writing more to you… My precious, my darling, my dearest!

Yet, I didn't understand that she was intentionally disguising her feelings with sarcasm; that was usually the last resort of people who are timid and chaste of heart, whose souls have been coarsely and impudently invaded; and who, until the last moment, refuse to yield out of pride and are afraid to express their own feelings to you.