"The darker the night, the brighter the stars,
The deeper the grief, the closer is God!”
— Fyodor Dostoyevsky (Crime and Punishment)
"But how could you live and have no story to tell?"
— Fyodor Dostoyevsky (White Nights)
"They were renewed by love; the heart of each held infinite sources of life for the heart of the other."
— Fyodor Dostoyevsky
"Existentialism isn’t so atheistic that it wears itself out showing that God doesn’t exist. Rather, it declares that even if God did exist, that would change nothing."
— Fyodor Dostoyevsky
When they asked some old Roman philosopher or other how he wanted to die, he said he would open his veins in a warm bath. I thought it would be easy, lying in the tub and seeing the redness flower from my wrists, flush after flush through the clear water, till I sank to sleep under a surface gaudy as poppies. But when it came right down to it, the skin of my wrist looked so white and defenseless that I couldn’t do it. It was as if what I wanted to kill wasn’t in that skin or that thin blue pulse that jumped under my thumb, but somewhere else, deeper, more secret, and a whole lot harder to get at. (SP)
Maybe forgetfulness, like a kind snow, should numb and cover them. But they were part of me. They were my landscape. (SP)
I hope that the worlds turns, and that things get better. But what I hope most of all is that you understand what I mean when I tell you that, even though I do not know you, and even though I may never meet you, laugh with you, cry with you, or kiss you, I love you. With all my heart, I love you.
(V for Vendetta)
Stranger, if you passing meet me and desire to speak to me, why should you not speak to me? And why should I not speak to you? (Walt Whitman)
May you live all the days of your life. (Jonathan Swift)
If one asks for success and prepares for failure, he will get the situation he has prepared for. (Florence Searel Shinn)
People treat us the way we teach them to treat us.
I’m almost never serious, and I’m always too serious. Too deep, too shallow. Too sensitive, too cold hearted. I’m like a collection of paradoxes. (Ferdinand von Schrubentaufft)