Every ant knows the formula of its ant-hill,
every bee knows the formula of its beehive.
They know it in their own way, not in our way.
Only humankind does not know its own formula.
Love all God’s creation, both the whole and every grain of sand. Love every leaf, every ray of light. Love the animals, love the plants, love each separate thing. If thou love each thing thou wilt perceive the mystery of God in all; and when once thou perceive this, thou wilt thenceforward grow every day to a fuller understanding of it: until thou come at last to love the whole world with a love that will then be all-embracing and universal.
Fyodor DostoevskyTag: love
I did not bow down to you, I bowed down to all the suffering of humanity.
Fyodor DostoevskyThere’s a book here in which I read about the trial of a Jew, who took a child of four years old and cut off the fingers from both hands, and then crucified him on the wall, hammered nails into him and crucified him, and afterwards, when he was tried, he said that the child died soon, within four hours. That was ‘soon’! He said the child moaned, kept on moaning and he stood admiring it. That’s nice!”
“Nice?”
“Nice; I sometimes imagine that it was I who crucified him. He would hang there moaning and I would sit opposite him eating pineapple compote. I am awfully fond of pineapple compote. Do you like it?”
Alyosha looked at her in silence. Her pale, sallow face was suddenly contorted, her eyes burned.
“You know, when I read about that Jew I shook with sobs all night. I kept fancying how the little thing cried and moaned (a child of four years old understands, you know), and all the while the thought of pineapple compote haunted me. In the morning I wrote a letter to a certain person, begging him particularly to come and see me. He came and I suddenly told him all about the child and the pineapple compote. All about it, all, and said that it was nice. He laughed and said it really was nice. Then he got up and went away. He was only here five minutes. Did he despise me? Did he despise me? Tell me, tell me, Alyosha, did he despise me or not?” She sat up on the couch, with flashing eyes.
دروغ را به سبك خود گفتن، بهتر از حقيقتي است به تقليد ديگري
Fyodor Dostoevsky¿Hay algo más seductor y a la vez más doloroso para el hombre que el libre albedrío?
Fyodor DostoevskyTalking nonsense is the sole privilege mankind possesses over the other organisms. It's by talking nonsense that one gets to the truth! I talk nonsense, therefore I'm human
Fyodor DostoevskyPerhaps I really regard myself as an intelligent man only because throughout my entire life I've never been able to start or finish anything.
Fyodor DostoevskyIn most cases, people, even wicked people, are far more naive and simple-hearted than one generally assumes. And so are we.
Fyodor DostoevskyTag: people generalizations inner-self the-heart
My God, a moment of bliss. Why, isn't that enough for a whole lifetime?
Fyodor DostoevskyTag: happiness pleasure temporary lasting
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