Fyodor Dostoevsky

They laughed cynically at my face, at my clumsy figure; and yet what stupid faces they had themselves.

Why am I going there now? Am I capable of that? Is that serious? It is not serious at all. It’s simply a fantasy to amuse myself; a plaything! Yes, maybe it is a plaything.”

He felt utterly broken: darkness and confusion were in his soul.

I am talking too much. It’s because I chatter that I do nothing. Or perhaps it is that I chatter because I do nothing

He had become so completely absorbed in himself, and isolated from his fellows that he dreaded meeting, not only his landlady, but anyone at all.

As the children grow up you feel that you are an example, a support for them; that even after you die your children will always keep your thoughts and feelings, because they have received them from you, they will take on your semblance and likeness.

Have you lived or not? Look, one says to oneself, look how cold the world is growing

Soon he sank into deep thought, or more accurately speaking into a complete blankness of mind;

At these moments he would become conscious that his ideas were sometimes in a tangle

“Let you go? You dare tell me to let you go? Do you know what I’ll do with you directly? I’ll pick you up, tie you up in a bundle, carry you home under my arm and lock you up!”