Unlimited Quote Collections
Organize your favorite quotes without limits. Create themed collections for every occasion with Premium.
Man has it all in his hands, and it all slips through his fingers from sheer cowardice. - Fyodor Dostoyevsky
" "Man has it all in his hands, and it all slips through his fingers from sheer cowardice.
English
Collect this quote
About Fyodor Dostoyevsky
Fyodor Mikhailovich Dostoyevsky or Dostoevsky [Фёдор Миха́йлович Достое́вский] (11 November 1821 - 9 February 1881) was a Russian novelist, short story writer, essayist, and journalist. Dostoevsky's literary works explore the human condition in the troubled political, social, and spiritual atmospheres of 19th-century Russia, and engage with a variety of philosophical and religious themes. Many literary critics rate him as one of the greatest novelists in all of world literature, as multiple of his works are considered highly influential masterpieces.
Biography information from Wikiquote
Also Known As
Pen Names:
Д.
•
Друг Кузьмы Пруткова
•
Зубоскал
•
—ий
•
М.
•
Летописец
•
М-ий
•
Н. Н.
•
Пружинин
•
Зубоскалов
•
Ред.
•
Ф. Д.
•
N.N.
Native Name:
Фёдор Михайлович Достоевский
Alternative Names:
Dostoievski
•
Fyodor Dostoievski
•
Fyodor Mikhaylovich Dostoievski
•
Fyodor Mikhaylovich Dostoyevsky
•
Fyodor Mikhailovich Dostoevsky
•
F.M. Dostoiewski
•
Fyodor Dostoevsky
•
Fyodor Doestoevsky
•
Doestoevsky
Related quotes. More quotes will automatically load as you scroll down, or you can use the load more buttons.
Additional quotes by Fyodor Dostoyevsky
What makes a hero? Courage, strength, morality, withstanding adversity? Are these the traits that truly show and create a hero? Is the light truly the source of darkness or vice versa? Is the soul a source of hope or despair? Who are these so called heroes and where do they come from? Are their origins in obscurity or in plain sight?
I could not become anything; neither good nor bad; neither a scoundrel nor an honest man; neither a hero nor an insect. And now I am eking out my days in my corner, taunting myself with the bitter and entirely useless consolation that an intelligent man cannot seriously become anything, that only a fool can become something.
A man who lies to himself, and believes his own lies, becomes unable to recognize truth, either in himself or in anyone else, and he ends up losing respect for himself and for others. When he has no respect for anyone, he can no longer love, and in him, he yields to his impulses, indulges in the lowest form of pleasure, and behaves in the end like an animal in satisfying his vices. And it all comes from lying — to others and to yourself.
Loading...