Without God all things are permitted.
Outwardly it's the truth, but inwardly, a lie!
Tyranny is a habit which may be developed until at last it becomes a disease. I declare that the noblest nature can become so hardened and bestial that nothing distinguishes it from that of a wild ani...
Why is it that when you awake to the world of realities you nearly always feel, sometimes very vividly, that the vanished dream has carried with it some enigma which you have failed to solve?
Because I am the nastiest, stupidest, absurdest and most envious of all the worms on earth, who are not a bit better than I am, but, the devil knows why, are never put to confusion; while I shall alwa...
Sunt destul de cultivat ca să nu fiu superstiţios, însă sunt superstiţios.
Russians alone are able to combine so many opposites in themselves at one and the same time.
Nature does not ask your permission, she has nothing to do with your wishes, and whether you like her laws or dislike them, you are bound to accept her as she is, and consequently all her conclusions.
And, indeed, I will ask on my own account here, an idle question: which is better - cheap happiness or exalted sufferings? Well, which is better?
Listen! This is where it began but I keep getting muddled... The fact of the matter is that I now want to recall everything, every trifle, every little detail. I still want to collect my thoughts and...
Have you noticed how dogs sniff at one another when they meet? It seems to be their nature.- Yes; it's a funny habit.- No, it's not funny; you are wrong there. There's nothing funny in nature, however...
In the first place I spent most of my time at home, reading. I tried to stifle all that was continually seething within me by means of external impressions. And the only external means I had was readi...
The morning was so damp and misty
Because what is man without his volition but a stop on a barrel-organ cylinder?
You will behold great sorrow, and in this sorrow be happy.
فهناك أناس يحبون أن يعتقدوا أن مُضطهدون مُهانون..
Nonetheless, a question remains before us all the same: what is a novelist to do with ordinary, completely usual people, and how can he present them to the reader so as to make them at least somewhat...
To remember, for instance, that here just a year ago, just at this time, at this hour, on this pavement, I wandered just as lonely, just as dejected as to-day. And one remembers that then one’s dreams...
Tú no puedes imaginarte cómo te ama Dios, aunque tenga que amarte como pecadora. En
Căci o astfel de dragoste pătimașă, sălbatică, e ca o criză de nebunie, ca un ștreang în jurul gâtului, ca o boală, dar de îndată ce e satisfăcută, vălul de pe ochii omului se destramă și în sufletul...
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