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Man is a vile creature!… And vile is he who calls him vile for that,”
Each is dependent on the others for the rest of his life! Better hang oneself at once!
How, how can I persuade you not to persecute me with your kindness? I may be ungrateful, I may be mean, only let me be, for God’s sake, let me be! Let me be, let me be!”
In wine is truth, and the truth had all come out,
Her gloves, as Razumihin noticed, were not merely shabby but had holes in them, and yet this evident poverty gave the two ladies an air of special dignity, which is always found in people who know how to wear poor clothes.
A normal man, it is true, hardly exists. Among dozens — perhaps hundreds of thousands — hardly one is to be met with.”
I really don’t know what drew me to her then — I think it was because she was always ill. If she had been lame or hunchback, I believe I should have liked her better still,”
They even love as though they hate….
“Don’t you lock up?” asked Razumihin, following him on to the stairs. “Never,” answered Raskolnikov. “I have been meaning to buy a lock for these two years. People are happy who have no need of locks,”
You know their doctrine; crime is a protest against the abnormality of the social organisation and nothing more, and nothing more; no other causes admitted!…”
The living soul demands life, the soul won’t obey the rules of mechanics, the soul is an object of suspicion, the soul is retrograde!
“If he has a conscience he will suffer for his mistake. That will be his punishment — as well as the prison.”
“I did not bow down to you, I bowed down to all the suffering of humanity,”
“and your worst sin is that you have destroyed and betrayed yourself for nothing.
You reckoned on her meekness! You relied upon that! But I am not so submissive, let me tell you!
Katia drank off her glass of wine, as women do, without putting it down, in twenty gulps,
“Why don’t you say at once ‘it’s a miracle’?” “Because it may be only chance.”
And if once a girl’s heart is moved to pity, it’s more dangerous than anything. She is bound to want to ‘save him,’ to bring him to his senses, and lift him up and draw him to nobler aims, and restore him to new life and usefulness — well, we all know how far such dreams can go.
and finally resorted to the most powerful weapon in the subjection of the female heart, a weapon which never fails one. It’s the well-known resource — flattery.
Next morning my late father gave me two five per cent bonds for five thousand roubles each.
HOw could his late father give him something ?
To kill for murder is a punishment incomparably worse than the crime itself. Murder by legal sentence is immeasurably more terrible than murder by brigands.
“Rogozhin? Oh, no, I would advise you as a father, or, if you prefer, as a friend, to forget Mr. Rogozhin.
“It’s a wonderful face,” he answered, “and I feel sure her story is not an ordinary one. The face is cheerful, but she has passed through terrible suffering, hasn’t she? Her eyes tell one that, the cheek bones, those points under her eyes. It’s a proud face, awfully proud, but I don’t know whether she is kindhearted. Ah, if she were! That would redeem it all!”
And only fancy, it’s still disputed whether, when the head is cut off, it knows for a second after that it has been cut off! What an idea! And what if it knows it for five seconds!
Nothing should be concealed from children on the pretext that they are little and that it is too early for them to understand. What a miserable and unfortunate idea! And how readily the children detect that their fathers consider them too little to understand anything, though they understand everything.
“You mean, just that sort of beauty?” “Just that sort.” “Why?” “In that face … there is so much suffering,”
Envy was all that was wanted to complete his suffering, and it suddenly stung him to the heart.
“No harm: se non e vero”
“For if cigars are forbidden in a railway carriage, dogs are even more so.”
What’s most low and hateful about money is that even talent can be bought with it, and will be, till the end of the world.
One might almost believe that your pity is greater than my love.”
It was a plain knife that wouldn’t shut up,
But the soul of another is a dark place, and the Russian soul is a dark place — for many it is a dark place.
Compassion was the chief and perhaps only law of all human existence.
But we thoroughly grasp that, though there is no legal claim, there is a human, natural claim, the claim of common sense and the voice of conscience.
I have my own grief — a very different one, everlasting and always the same.
Any Russian who says or writes or does anything of his own — something original, not borrowed — inevitably becomes national, even if he can’t speak Russian properly.
There cannot be a Liberal anywhere else who hates his own country.
A coward is a man who’s afraid and runs away. If one’s afraid and doesn’t run away, one’s not a coward,”
On her black eyelashes there still glistened a tear — from her recent terror or her former grief — I don’t know.
I sang my own praises, as one always does in the end when one analyses one’s conduct.
“dear Nastenka, I know I describe splendidly, but, excuse me, I don’t know how else to do it.
At that hour our hero — for allow me, Nastenka, to tell my story in the third person, for one feels awfully ashamed to tell it in the first person — and so at that hour our hero, who had his work too, was pacing along after the others.
Needing to speak in third person; dissociation?
one thanks some people for being alive at the same time with one;
So when we are unhappy we feel the unhappiness of others more; feeling is not destroyed but concentrated….
Your hand is cold, mine burns like fire.
I don’t know why, but when I looked out of the window it seemed to me that the house opposite had grown old and dingy too, that the stucco on the columns was peeling off and crumbling, that the cornices were cracked and blackened, and that the walls, of a vivid deep yellow, were patchy.
The start of the story he describes the houses positively and now he views them drearily
