Killing myself was a matter of such indifference to me that I felt like waiting for a moment when it would make some difference.
Fyodor DostoevskyTags: indifference suicide
Now I'm living out my life in a corner, trying to console myself with the stupid, useless excuse that an intelligent man cannot turn himself into anything, that only a fool can make anything he wants out of himself.
Fyodor DostoevskyI want to suffer so that I may love.
Fyodor DostoevskyThe painter Kramskoy has a remarkable painting entitled The Contemplator: it depicts a forest in winter, and in the forest, standing all by himself on the road, in deepest solitude, a stray little peasant in a ragged caftan and bast shoes; he stands as if he were lost in thought, but he is not thinking, he is "contemplating" something. If you nudged him, he would give a start and look at you as if he had just woken up, but without understanding anything. It's true that he would come to himself at once, and yet, if he were asked what he had been thinking about while standing there, he would most likely not remember, but would most likely keep hidden away in himself the impression he had been under while contemplating. These impressions are dear to him, and he is most likely storing them up imperceptibly and even without realizing it--why and what for, he does not know either; perhaps suddenly, having stored up his impressions over many years, he will drop everything and wander off to Jerusalem to save his soul, or perhaps he will suddenly burn down his native village, or perhaps he will do both.
There are a good many "contemplatives" among our peasants. And Smerdyakov was probably one of them. And he was probably greedily hoarding up his impressions, hardly knowing why.
Tags: contemplation
Honoured sir, poverty is not a vice, that's a true saying. Yet I know too that drunkeness is not a virtue, and that's even truer. But beggary, honoured sir, beggary is a vice. In poverty you may still retain your innate nobility of soul, but in beggary--never--no one. For beggary a man is not chased out of human society with a stick, he is swept out with a broom, so as to make it as humiliating as possible; and quite right, too, forasmuch as in beggary as I am ready to be the first to humiliate myself.
Fyodor DostoevskyНа света няма нищо по- трудно от откровеността и по- лесно от ласкателството. Ако в откровеността има поне една стотна нотка фалш, веднага настъпва дисонанс, а след него скандал. А в ласкателството дори всичко, до последната нотка да е фалшиво, то и тогава е приятно и се слуша не без удоволствие; макар и с грубо удоволствие, но все пак с удоволствие. И колкото и да е грубо ласкателството, в него винаги поне половината изглежда истина."-
Fyodor DostoevskyEh, brother, but nature has to be corrected and guided, otherwise we'd all drown in prejudices. Without that there wouldn't be even a single great man.
Fyodor DostoevskyTags: greatness nature prejudice
No, it is not a commonplace, sir! If up to now, for example, I have been told to 'love my neighbor,' and I did love him, what came of it?. . . What came of it was that I tore my caftan in two, shared it with my neighbor, and we were both left half naked, in accordance with the Russian proverb which says: If you chase several hares at once, you won't overtake any one of them. But science says: Love yourself before all, because everything in the world is based on self-interest. If you love only yourself, you will set your affairs up properly, and your caftan will also remain in one piece. And economic truth adds that the more properly arranged personal affairs and, so to speak, whole caftans there are in society, the firmer its foundations are and the better arranged its common cause. It follows that by acquiring for everyone, as it were, and working so that my neighbor will have something more than a torn caftan, not from private, isolated generosities now, but as a result of universal prosperity.
Fyodor DostoevskyTags: science generosity prosperity
You think it’s because they’re lying? Nonsense! I like it when people lie! Lying is man’s only privilege over all other organisms. If you lie--you get to the truth! Lying is what makes me a man. Not one truth has ever been reached without first lying fourteen times or so, maybe a hundred and fourteen, and that’s honorable in its way; well, but we can’t even lie with our own minds! Lie to me, but in your own way, and I’ll kiss you for it. Lying in one’s own way is almost better than telling the truth in someone else’s way; in the first case you’re a man, and in the second—no better than a bird! The truth won’t go away, but life can be nailed shut; there are examples. Well, so where are we all now? With regard to science, development, thought, invention, ideals, aspirations, liberalism, reason, experience, and everything, everything, everything, we’re all, without exception, still sitting in the first grade! We like getting by on other people’s reason--we’ve acquired a taste for it! Right? Am I right?
Fyodor DostoevskyTags: inspirational man lying
أنه في المقال قسم الناس إلى نوعين : مخلوق "عادي" ومخلوق "غير عادي". وفرض على أولئك أن يعيشوا مطيعين دون أن يعطيهم الحق في تجاوز القانون و خرقه لأنهم كمان ترى مخلوقات عادية, أما الآخرون فإن لهم الحق في إرتكاب الجرائم وخرق كل قانون لمجرد كونهم مخلوقات غير عادية! أليست هذه فكرتك ؟ أم تراني مخطئاً ؟
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