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Quote by Fyodor Dostoevsky

Work

The Greatest Works of Dostoevsky: Crime and Punishment + The Brother's Karamazov + The Idiot + Notes from Underground + The Gambler + Demons (The Possessed / The Devils)

This comprehensive collection offers readers an in-depth exploration of Dostoevsky's profound psychological and philosophical insights. It includes 'Crime and Punishment,' a novel that delves into the moral and existential dilemmas of a young man; 'The Brother's Karamazov,' a complex narrative that examines faith, doubt, and the nature of evil; 'The Idiot,' a story of innocence and the struggle against societal corruption; 'Notes from Underground,' an exploration of the author's own thoughts and feelings; 'The Gambler,' a portrayal of addiction and its consequences; and 'Demons,' a novel that explores the rise of revolutionary fervor and its impact on individuals. more

Author

Fyodor Dostoevsky
Fyodor Dostoevsky

A renowned Russian novelist and a pioneer of psychological novels. His works deeply reveal the complexity of human nature and the injustice of society, having a profound impact on literature worldwide. more

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“After a time," said old Mathers disregarding me, "I mercifully perceived the errors of my ways and the unhappy destination I would reach unless I mended them. I retired from the world in order to try to comprehend it and to find out why it becomes more unsavoury as the years accumulate on a man's body. What do you think I discovered at the end of my meditations?" I felt pleased again. He was now questioning me. "What?" "That No is a better word than Yes," he replied.”

“If he failed the first time he took his driver's licence test, it was mainly because he started an argument with the examiner in an ill-timed effort to prove that nothing could be more humiliating to a rational creature than being required to encourage the development of a base conditional reflex by stopping at a red light when there was not an earthly soul around, heeled or wheeled. He was more circumspect the next time, and passed.”

“I didn't have a chance to buy you anything," she said, then held both closed hands toward him. Uncurled her fingers. In each cupped palm a brown egg. He took them. They were cold. He thought it a tender, wonderful thing to do. She had given him something, the eggs, after all, only a symbol, but they had come from her hands as a gift. To him. It didn't matter that he'd bought them himself at the supermarket the day before. He imagined she understood him, that she had to love him to know that it was the outstreched hands, the giving, that mattered.”