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Yes — you, you alone must pay for everything because you turned up like this, because I'm a scoundrel, because I'm the nastiest, most ridiculous, pet… - Fyodor Dostoyevsky
" "Yes — you, you alone must pay for everything because you turned up like this, because I'm a scoundrel, because I'm the nastiest, most ridiculous, pettiest, stupidest, and most envious worm of all those living on earth who're no better than me in any way, but who, the devil knows why, never get embarrassed, while all my life I have to endure insults from every louse — that's my fate. What do I care that you do not understand any of this?
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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.
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Друг Кузьмы Пруткова
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Зубоскал
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—ий
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М.
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Летописец
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М-ий
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Н. Н.
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Пружинин
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Зубоскалов
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Ред.
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Ф. Д.
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N.N.
Native Name:
Фёдор Михайлович Достоевский
Alternative Names:
Dostoievski
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Fyodor Dostoievski
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Fyodor Mikhaylovich Dostoievski
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Fyodor Mikhaylovich Dostoyevsky
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Fyodor Mikhailovich Dostoevsky
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F.M. Dostoiewski
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Fyodor Dostoevsky
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Fyodor Doestoevsky
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Doestoevsky
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Additional quotes by Fyodor Dostoyevsky
In dreams you sometimes fall from a height, or are stabbed, or beaten, but you never feel pain unless, perhaps, you really bruise yourself against the bedstead, then you feel pain and almost always wake up from it. It was the same in my dream. I did not feel any pain, but it seemed as though with my shot everything within me was shaken and everything was suddenly dimmed, and it grew horribly black around me. I seemed to be blinded, and it benumbed, and I was lying on something hard, stretched on my back; I saw nothing, and could not make the slightest movement.
Imagine that you are creating a fabric of human destiny with the object of making men happy in the end, giving them peace and rest at last. Imagine that you are doing this but that it is essential and inevitable to torture to death only one tiny creature...in order to found that edifice on its unavenged tears. Would you consent to be the architect on those conditions? Tell me. Tell the truth.
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