The Brothers Karamazov quotes

… say that this “landowner”—for so we used to call him, although he hardly spent a day of his life on his own estate—was a strange type, yet one pretty frequently to be met with, a type abject and vicious and at the same time senseless.

But he was one of those senseless persons who are very well capable of looking after their worldly affairs, and, apparently, after nothing else.

Fyodor Pavlovitch, for instance, began with next to nothing; his estate was of the smallest;

“Lord, now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace,” but others say he wept without restraint like a little child, so much so that people were sorry for him, in spite of the repulsion he inspired.

It is quite possible that both versions were true, that he rejoiced at his release, and at the same time wept for her who released him.

As a general rule, people, even the wicked, are much more naive and simple-hearted than we suppose. And we ourselves are, too.

It is quite possible that both versions were true, that he rejoiced at his release, and at the same time wept for her who released him.

As a general rule, people, even the wicked, are much more naive and simple-hearted than we suppose. And we ourselves are, too.

But she lived in another province; besides, what could a little girl of sixteen know about it, except that she would be better at the bottom of the river than remaining with her benefactress.

So the poor child exchanged a benefactress for a benefactor.

Fyodor Pavlovitch did not get a penny this time, for the general’s widow was furious. She gave them nothing and cursed them both. But he had not reckoned on a dowry;

Fyodor Pavlovitch, thinking it over, decided that it was a good thing, and did not refuse the general’s widow his formal consent to any proposition in regard to his children’s education.

As for the slaps she had given him, he drove all over the town telling the story.

It happened that the old lady died soon after this, but she left the boys in her will a thousand roubles each “for their instruction, and so that all be spent on them exclusively, with the condition that it be so portioned out as to …

It makes it more refined, more enlightened, more Lutheran that is. And, after all, what does it matter whether it has a ceiling or hasn’t? But, do you know, there’s a damnable question involved in it?

If there’s no ceiling there can be no hooks, and if there are no hooks it all breaks down, which is unlikely again, for then there would be none to drag me down to hell, and if they don’t drag me down what justice is there in the world?

Il faudrait les inventer, those hooks, on purpose for me alone, for, if you only knew, Alyosha, what a blackguard I am.”

And he even began blubbering. He was sentimental.

He was wicked and sentimental.

Even if he admits it, he admits it as a fact of nature till then unrecognized by him.

Faith does not, in the realist, spring from the miracle but the miracle from faith.

If the realist once believes, then he is bound by his very realism to admit the miraculous also. The Apostle Thomas said that he would not believe till he saw, but when he did see he said, “My Lord and my God!”

What was such an elder?

An elder was one who took your soul, your will, into his soul and his will.

When you choose an elder, you renounce your own will and yield it to him in complete submission, complete self-abnegation.

Miüsov took a cursory glance at all these “conventional” surroundings and bent an intent look upon the elder.

He had a high opinion of his own insight, a weakness excusable in him as he was fifty, an age at which a clever man of the world of established position can hardly help taking himself rather seriously.

At the first moment he did not like Zossima. There was, indeed, something in the elder’s face which many people besides Miüsov might not have liked.

“Yes; that’s true.

I’m not a king, and, would you believe it, Pyotr Alexandrovitch, I was aware of that myself.

But, there! I always say the wrong thing. Your reverence,” he cried, with sudden pathos, “you behold before you a buffoon in earnest! I introduce myself as such. It’s an old habit, alas!

That’s been so since I was young, when I had to make jokes for my living in noblemen’s families. I am an inveterate buffoon, and have been from birth up, your reverence, it’s as though it were a craze in me.

I dare say it’s a devil within me. But only a little one.

A more serious one would have chosen another lodging. But not your soul, Pyotr Alexandrovitch; you’re not a lodging worth having either. But I do believe—I believe in God, though I have had doubts of late. But now I sit and await words of wisdom.

“I earnestly beg you, too, not to disturb yourself, and not to be uneasy,” the elder said impressively. “Do not trouble. Make yourself quite at home.

And, above all, do not be so ashamed of yourself, for that is at the root of it all.

”

So I say, ‘Let me really play the buffoon. I am not afraid of your opinion, for you are every one of you worse than I am.’ That is why I am a buffoon.

It is from shame, great elder, from shame; it’s simply oversensitiveness that makes me rowdy.

If I had only been sure that everyone would accept me as the kindest and wisest of men, oh, Lord, what a good man I should have been then! Teacher!” he fell suddenly on his knees, “what must I do to gain eternal life?”

I am not afraid of your opinion, for you are every one of you worse than I am.’ That is why I am a buffoon. It is from shame, great elder, from shame; it’s simply oversensitiveness that makes me rowdy.

If I had only been sure that everyone would accept me as the kindest and wisest of men, oh, Lord, what a good man I should have been then!

Teacher!” he fell suddenly on his knees, “what must I do to gain eternal life?”

“No, not about Diderot.

Above all, don’t lie to yourself. The man who lies to himself and listens to his own lie comes to such a pass that he cannot distinguish the truth within him, or around him, and so loses all respect for himself and for others.

And having no respect he ceases to love, and in order to occupy and distract himself without love he gives way to passions and coarse pleasures, and sinks to bestiality in his vices, all from continual lying to other men and to himself.

Yes, I have been all my life taking offense, to please myself, taking offense on esthetic grounds, for it is not so much pleasant as distinguished sometimes to be insulted—that you had forgotten, great elder, it is distinguished! I shall make a note of that.

But I have been lying, lying positively my whole life long, every day and hour of it. Of a truth, I am a lie, and the father of lies.

Though I believe I am not the father of lies. I am getting mixed in my texts. Say, the son of lies, and that will be enough. Only … my angel … I may sometimes talk about Diderot!

This is particularly common with women. But it is no lighter a grief than the silent. Lamentations comfort only by lacerating the heart still more.

Such grief does not desire consolation. It feeds on the sense of its hopelessness.

Lamentations spring only from the constant craving to reopen the wound.

“It is Rachel of old,” said the elder, “weeping for her children, and will not be comforted because they are not. Such is the lot set on earth for you mothers. Be not comforted.

Consolation is not what you need. Weep and be not consoled, but weep.

Only every time that you weep be sure to remember that your little son is one of the angels of God, that he looks down from there at you and sees you, and rejoices at your tears, and points at them to the Lord God;

And if you love you are of God. All things are atoned for, all things are saved by love. If I, a sinner, even as you are, am tender with you and have pity on you, how much more will God.

Love is such a priceless treasure that you can redeem the whole world by it, and expiate not only your own sins but the sins of others.

”

“Fear nothing and never be afraid; and don’t fret. If only your penitence fail not, God will forgive all.

There is no sin, and there can be no sin on all the earth, which the Lord will not forgive to the truly repentant!

Man cannot commit a sin so great as to exhaust the infinite love of God. Can there be a sin which could exceed the love of God? Think only of repentance, continual repentance, but dismiss fear altogether.

Be not bitter against men. Be not angry if you are wronged. Forgive the dead man in your heart what wrong he did you. Be reconciled with him in truth. If you are penitent, you love. And if you love you are of God.

All things are atoned for, all things are saved by love.

If I, a sinner, even as you are, am tender with you and have pity on you, how much more will God.

“I am extraordinarily better today. But I know that it’s only for a moment. I understand my disease now thoroughly. If I seem so happy to you, you could never say anything that would please me so much.

For men are made for happiness, and anyone who is completely happy has a right to say to himself, ‘I am doing God’s will on earth.’

All the righteous, all the saints, all the holy martyrs were happy.”

“By the experience of active love.

Strive to love your neighbor actively and indefatigably.

In as far as you advance in love you will grow surer of the reality of God and of the immortality of your soul.

“He was a man getting on in years, and undoubtedly clever. He spoke as frankly as you, though in jest, in bitter jest. ‘I love humanity,’ he said, ‘but I wonder at myself.

The more I love humanity in general, the less I love man in particular.

In my dreams,’ he said, ‘I have often come to making enthusiastic schemes for the service of humanity, and perhaps I might actually have faced crucifixion if it had been suddenly necessary;

Love in dreams is greedy for immediate action, rapidly performed and in the sight of all. Men will even give their lives if only the ordeal does not last long but is soon over, with all looking on and applauding as though on the stage.

But active love is labor and fortitude, and for some people too, perhaps, a complete science.

But I predict that just when you see with horror that in spite of all your efforts you are getting farther from your goal instead of nearer to it—at that very moment I predict that you will reach it and behold clearly the miraculous power …

“Yes. That was my contention.

There is no virtue if there is no immortality.

”

“

You are blessed in believing that, or else most unhappy.

”

“

If it can’t be decided in the affirmative, it will never be decided in the negative.

You know that that is the peculiarity of your heart, and all its suffering is due to it. But thank the Creator who has given you a lofty heart capable of such suffering;

“

Why is such a man alive?

” Dmitri, beside himself with rage, growled in a hollow voice, hunching up his shoulders till he looked almost deformed. “Tell me, can he be allowed to go on defiling the earth?” He looked round at everyone and pointed at the old man.

“Pyotr Alexandrovitch! How could I dare after what’s happened! Forgive me, gentlemen, I was carried away! And upset besides! And, indeed, I am ashamed.

Gentlemen, one man has the heart of Alexander of Macedon and another the heart of the little dog Fido. Mine is that of the little dog Fido.

I am ashamed! After such an escapade how can I go to dinner, to gobble up the monastery’s sauces? I am ashamed, I can’t. You must excuse me!”

You will have to bear all before you come back. There will be much to do. But I don’t doubt of you, and so I send you forth. Christ is with you. Do not abandon Him and He will not abandon you.

You will see great sorrow, and in that sorrow you will be happy. This is my last message to you: in sorrow seek happiness.

Work, work unceasingly. Remember my words, for although I shall talk with you again, not only my days but my hours are numbered.”

though it’s a poor sort of prophecy, flopping like that. ‘Ah, but it was symbolic,’ they’ll say, ‘an allegory,’ and the devil knows what all! It’ll be remembered to his glory: ‘He predicted the crime and marked the criminal!’

That’s always the way with these crazy fanatics; they cross themselves at the tavern and throw stones at the temple.

Like your elder, he takes a stick to a just man and falls at the feet of a murderer.”

A man will fall in love with some beauty, with a woman’s body, or even with a part of a woman’s body (a sensualist can understand that), and he’ll abandon his own children for her, sell his father and mother, and his country, Russia, too.

If he’s honest, he’ll steal; if he’s humane, he’ll murder; if he’s faithful, he’ll deceive.

Pushkin, the poet of women’s feet, sung of their feet in his verse. Others don’t sing their praises, but they can’t look at their feet without a thrill—and it’s not only their feet. Contempt’s no help here, brother, even if he did despise Grushenka.

You are pure, but you’ve been down into the depths. … I’ve been watching you a long time. You’re a Karamazov yourself; you’re a thorough Karamazov—no doubt birth and selection have something to answer for.

You’re a sensualist from your father, a crazy saint from your mother.

Why do you tremble? Is it true, then? Do you know, Grushenka has been begging me to bring you along. ‘I’ll pull off his cassock,’ she says. You can’t think how she keeps begging me to bring you.

“There’s nothing to finish. It’s all clear. It’s the same old tune, brother. If even you are a sensualist at heart, what of your brother, Ivan? He’s a Karamazov, too.

What is at the root of all you Karamazovs is that you’re all sensual, grasping and crazy!

Your brother Ivan writes theological articles in joke, for some idiotic, unknown motive of his own, though he’s an atheist, and he admits it’s a fraud himself—that’s your brother Ivan. He’s trying to get Mitya’s betrothed for himself, and I fancy he’ll succeed, too.

“Ah, Misha, he has a stormy spirit. His mind is in bondage. He is haunted by a great, unsolved doubt.

He is one of those who don’t want millions, but an answer to their questions.

”

He longed to revenge himself on everyone for his own unseemliness. He suddenly recalled how he had once in the past been asked, “Why do you hate so-and-so, so much?” And he had answered them, with his shameless impudence, “I’ll tell you.

He has done me no harm. But I played him a dirty trick, and ever since I have hated him.

”

Alyosha knew that his father would let him go back to the monastery next day, possibly even that evening. Moreover, he was fully persuaded that his father might hurt anyone else, but would not hurt him.

Alyosha was certain that no one in the whole world ever would want to hurt him, and, what is more, he knew that no one could hurt him.

This was for him an axiom, assumed once for all without question, and he went his way without hesitation, relying on it.

“No one but you and one ‘jade’ I have fallen in love with, to my ruin.

But being in love doesn’t mean loving. You may be in love with a woman and yet hate her.

Remember that! I can talk about it gayly still. Sit down here by the table and I’ll sit beside you and look at you, and go on talking. You shall keep quiet and I’ll go on talking, for the time has come.

(It’s five days since I’ve cast anchor here.) Because it’s only to you I can tell everything; because I must, because I need you, because tomorrow I shall fly from the clouds, because tomorrow life is ending and beginning.

Have you ever felt, have you ever dreamt of falling down a precipice into a pit? That’s just how I’m falling, but not in a dream.

And I’m not afraid, and don’t you be afraid. At least, I am afraid, but I enjoy it. It’s not enjoyment though, but ecstasy. Damn it all, whatever it is! A strong spirit, a weak spirit, a womanish spirit—whatever it is! Let us praise nature:

And in the very depths of that degradation I begin a hymn of praise. Let me be accursed. Let me be vile and base, only let me kiss the hem of the veil in which my God is shrouded.

Though I may be following the devil, I am Thy son, O Lord, and I love Thee, and I feel the joy without which the world cannot stand.

Joy everlasting fostereth The soul of all creation, It is her secret ferment fires The cup of life with flame.

… still more awful is that a man with the ideal of Sodom in his soul does not renounce the ideal of the Madonna, and his heart may be on fire with that ideal, genuinely on fire, just as in his days of youth and innocence.

Yes, man is broad, too broad, indeed. I’d have him narrower.

The devil only knows what to make of it! What to the mind is shameful is beauty and nothing else to the heart. Is there beauty in Sodom? Believe me, that for the immense mass of mankind beauty is found in Sodom.

Is there beauty in Sodom? Believe me, that for the immense mass of mankind beauty is found in Sodom. Did you know that secret? The awful thing is that beauty is mysterious as well as terrible.

God and the devil are fighting there and the battlefield is the heart of man.

But a man always talks of his own ache. Listen, now to come to facts.”

All we Karamazovs are such insects, and, angel as you are, that insect lives in you, too, and will stir up a tempest in your blood. Tempests, because sensual lust is a tempest—worse than a tempest!

Beauty is a terrible and awful thing! It is terrible because it has not been fathomed and never can be fathomed, for God sets us nothing but riddles.

Here the boundaries meet and all contradictions exist side by side. I am not a cultivated man, brother, but I’ve thought a lot about this. It’s terrible what mysteries there are! Too many riddles weigh men down on earth.

I am speaking figuratively, brother. In the town I was in, there were no such back-alleys in the literal sense, but morally there were. If you were like me, you’d know what that means.

I loved vice, I loved the ignominy of vice.

I loved cruelty; am I not a bug, am I not a noxious insect? In fact a Karamazov! Once we went, a whole lot of us, for a picnic, in seven sledges.

“

She loves her own virtue, not me.

” The words broke involuntarily, and almost malignantly, from Dmitri. He laughed, but a minute later his eyes gleamed, he flushed crimson and struck the table violently with his fist.

“

If there’s an if, it will be murder. I couldn’t endure it.

”

“

There would have been no civilization if they hadn’t invented God.

”

“No, I am not angry. I know your thoughts.

Your heart is better than your head.

”

You’re not out of your shells yet. My rule has been that you can always find something devilishly interesting in every woman that you wouldn’t find in any other. Only, one must know how to find it, that’s the point! That’s a talent!

To my mind there are no ugly women.

The very fact that she is a woman is half the battle … but how could you understand that?

“Why should He forbid?” Ivan went on in the same whisper, with a malignant grimace. “

One reptile will devour the other. And serve them both right, too.

”

“And do you suppose that I can’t put up with that woman? Does he think I can’t? But he won’t marry her,” she suddenly laughed nervously. “

Could such a passion last forever in a Karamazov? It’s passion, not love.

He won’t marry her because she won’t marry him.” Again Katerina Ivanovna laughed strangely.

“

So that you may be left to remember that you kissed my hand, but I didn’t kiss yours.

”

This knowledge is the crown of life for the monk and for every man.

For monks are not a special sort of men, but only what all men ought to be.

Only through that knowledge, our heart grows soft with infinite, universal, inexhaustible love. Then every one of you will have the power to win over the whole world by love and to wash away the sins of the world with your tears.

“

Why, today he told me that a fool would visit me and would ask me unseemly questions. You want to know too much, monk.

”

So I am saving up more and more, simply for myself, my dear son Alexey Fyodorovitch. You may as well know. For I mean to go on in my sins to the end, let me tell you.

For sin is sweet; all abuse it, but all men live in it, only others do it on the sly, and I openly.

And so all the other sinners fall upon me for being so simple. And your paradise, Alexey Fyodorovitch, is not to my taste, let me tell you that; and it’s not the proper place for a gentleman, your paradise, even if it exists.

“

You are not ill-natured, but distorted,

” said Alyosha with a smile.

But if Ivan loved him I should be afraid for myself at his loving him. But Ivan loves nobody. Ivan is not one of us. People like Ivan are not our sort, my boy.

They are like a cloud of dust. When the wind blows, the dust will be gone.

… I had a silly idea in my head when I told you to come today; I wanted to find out from you about Mitya.

Alyosha had no art or premeditation in beginning with this practical remark. But it is the only way for a grownup person to get at once into confidential relations with a child, or still more with a group of children.

One must begin in a serious, businesslike way so as to be on a perfectly equal footing.

Alyosha understood it by instinct.

He loved them both, but what could he desire for each in the midst of these conflicting interests? He might go quite astray in this maze, and Alyosha’s heart could not endure uncertainty, because his love was always of an active character.

He was incapable of passive love. If he loved anyone, he set to work at once to help him.

And to do so he must know what he was aiming at; he must know for certain what was best for each, and having ascertained this it was natural for him to help them both.

“

Never trust a woman’s tears, Alexey Fyodorovitch.

I am never for the women in such cases. I am always on the side of the men.”

He looked like a man who had long been kept in subjection and had submitted to it, and now had suddenly turned and was trying to assert himself.

Or, better still, like a man who wants dreadfully to hit you but is horribly afraid you will hit him.

In his words and in the intonation of his shrill voice there was a sort of crazy humor, at times spiteful and at times cringing, and continually shifting from one tone to another.

“Nikolay Ilyitch Snegiryov, sir, formerly a captain in the Russian infantry, put to shame for his vices, but still a captain. Though I might not be one now for the way I talk; for the last half of my life I’ve learnt to say ‘sir.’

It’s a word you use when you’ve come down in the world.

”

If I die, who will care for them, and while I live who but they will care for a wretch like me? That’s a great thing the Lord has ordained for every man of my sort, sir.

For there must be someone able to love even a man like me.

”

“Anger!” the captain repeated, “that’s just what it is. He is a little creature, but it’s a mighty anger. You don’t know all, sir. Let me tell you more. Since that incident all the boys have been teasing him about the ‘wisp of tow.’

Schoolboys are a merciless race, individually they are angels, but together, especially in schools, they are often merciless.

Their teasing has stirred up a gallant spirit in Ilusha. An ordinary boy, a weak son, would have submitted, have felt ashamed of his father, sir, but he stood up for his father against them all. For his father and for truth and justice.

“

What should I say to my boy if I took money from you for our shame?

”

That struck him all at once. Why, he thought, did I put myself forward to help him?

You know, Lise, it’s awfully hard for a man who has been injured, when other people look at him as though they were his benefactors.

… I’ve heard that; Father Zossima told me so. I don’t know how to put it, but I have often seen it myself. And I feel like that myself, too.

“No, Lise, it’s not contempt,” Alyosha answered, as though he had prepared himself for the question. “I was thinking of that on the way here.

How can it be contempt when we are all like him, when we are all just the same as he is?

For you know we are just the same, no better. If we are better, we should have been just the same in his place.

… Ah, you don’t know, but I, too, am a Karamazov. What does it matter if you do laugh and make jokes, and at me, too? Go on laughing. I am so glad you do.

You laugh like a little child, but you think like a martyr.

”

It’s a feature of the Karamazovs, it’s true, that thirst for life regardless of everything; you have it no doubt too, but why is it base? The centripetal force on our planet is still fearfully strong, Alyosha.

I have a longing for life, and I go on living in spite of logic.

Though I may not believe in the order of the universe, yet I love the sticky little leaves as they open in spring. I love the blue sky, I love some people, whom one loves you know sometimes without knowing why.

And I shall not weep from despair, but simply because I shall be happy in my tears, I shall steep my soul in my emotion. I love the sticky leaves in spring, the blue sky—that’s all it is.

It’s not a matter of intellect or logic, it’s loving with one’s inside, with one’s stomach.

One loves the first strength of one’s youth. Do you understand anything of my tirade, Alyosha?” Ivan laughed suddenly.

“To begin with, for the sake of being Russian. Russian conversations on such subjects are always carried on inconceivably stupidly. And secondly, the stupider one is, the closer one is to reality. The stupider one is, the clearer one is.

Stupidity is brief and artless, while intelligence wriggles and hides itself. Intelligence is a knave, but stupidity is honest and straightforward.

I’ve led the conversation to my despair, and the more stupidly I have presented it, the better for me.”

I am convinced that he did that from ‘self-laceration,’ from the self-laceration of falsity, for the sake of the charity imposed by duty, as a penance laid on him.

For anyone to love a man, he must be hidden, for as soon as he shows his face, love is gone.

”

And so he deprives me instantly of his favor, and not at all from badness of heart. Beggars, especially genteel beggars, ought never to show themselves, but to ask for charity through the newspapers.

One can love one’s neighbors in the abstract, or even at a distance, but at close quarters it’s almost impossible.

If it were as on the stage, in the ballet, where if beggars come in, they wear silken rags and tattered lace and beg for alms dancing gracefully, then one might like looking at them. But even then we should not love them.

They burn villages, murder, outrage women and children, they nail their prisoners by the ears to the fences, leave them so till morning, and in the morning they hang them—all sorts of things you can’t imagine.

People talk sometimes of bestial cruelty, but that’s a great injustice and insult to the beasts; a beast can never be so cruel as a man, so artistically cruel.

The tiger only tears and gnaws, that’s all he can do. He would never think of nailing people by the ears, even if he were able to do it. These Turks took a pleasure in torturing children, too;

“

I think if the devil doesn’t exist, but man has created him, he has created him in his own image and likeness.

”

Without it, I am told, man could not have existed on earth, for he could not have known good and evil. Why should he know that diabolical good and evil when it costs so much?

Why, the whole world of knowledge is not worth that child’s prayer to ‘dear, kind God’!

I say nothing of the sufferings of grownup people, they have eaten the apple, damn them, and the devil take them all! But these little ones! I am making you suffer, Alyosha, you are not yourself. I’ll leave off if you like.”

“That’s just the point, that ‘but’!” cried Ivan. “

Let me tell you, novice, that the absurd is only too necessary on earth. The world stands on absurdities, and perhaps nothing would have come to pass in it without them.

We know what we know!”

And if that is so, if they dare not forgive, what becomes of harmony? Is there in the whole world a being who would have the right to forgive and could forgive?

I don’t want harmony. From love for humanity I don’t want it.

I would rather be left with the unavenged suffering. I would rather remain with my unavenged suffering and unsatisfied indignation, even if I were wrong. Besides, too high a price is asked for harmony;

it’s beyond our means to pay so much to enter on it. And so I hasten to give back my entrance ticket, and if I am an honest man I am bound to give it back as soon as possible. And that I am doing.

It’s not God that I don’t accept, Alyosha, only I most respectfully return Him the ticket.

”

“Rebellion? I am sorry you call it that,” said Ivan earnestly. “

One can hardly live in rebellion, and I want to live.

Tell me yourself, I challenge you—answer.

He has given us fire from heaven!”

Dost Thou know that the ages will pass, and humanity will proclaim by the lips of their sages that there is no crime, and therefore no sin; there is only hunger?

“Feed men, and then ask of them virtue!” that’s what they’ll write on the banner, which they will raise against Thee, and with which they will destroy Thy temple. Where Thy temple stood will rise a new building;

give bread, and man will worship thee, for nothing is more certain than bread. But if someone else gains possession of his conscience—oh! then he will cast away Thy bread and follow after him who has ensnared his conscience. In that Thou wast right.

For the secret of man’s being is not only to live but to have something to live for.

Without a stable conception of the object of life, man would not consent to go on living, and would rather destroy himself than remain on earth, though he had bread in abundance. That is true. But what happened?

That is true. But what happened? Instead of taking men’s freedom from them, Thou didst make it greater than ever! Didst Thou forget that man prefers peace, and even death, to freedom of choice in the knowledge of good and evil?

Nothing is more seductive for man than his freedom of conscience, but nothing is a greater cause of suffering.

And behold, instead of giving a firm foundation for setting the conscience of man at rest forever, Thou didst choose all that is exceptional, vague and enigmatic;

“

The kiss glows in his heart, but the old man adheres to his idea.

”

“Ah, dear boy, how can you talk of joy when you lie feverish at night, coughing as though you would tear yourself to pieces.”

“Don’t cry, mother,” he would answer, “life is paradise, and we are all in paradise, but we won’t see it, if we would, we should have heaven on earth the next day.”

Everyone wondered at his words, he spoke so strangely and positively; we were all touched and wept. Friends came to see us.

He beckoned me, and I went up to him. He put his hands on my shoulders and looked into my face tenderly, lovingly; he said nothing for a minute, only looked at me like that.

“Well,” he said, “run and play now, enjoy life for me too.”

I went out then and ran to play. And many times in my life afterwards I remembered even with tears how he told me to enjoy life for him too.

But how could he love those new ones when those first children are no more, when he has lost them? Remembering them, how could he be fully happy with those new ones, however dear the new ones might be? But he could, he could.

It’s the great mystery of human life that old grief passes gradually into quiet, tender joy.

The mild serenity of age takes the place of the riotous blood of youth.

“Upon my word,” cried my adversary, annoyed, “if you did not want to fight, why did not you let me alone?”

“Yesterday I was a fool, today I know better,” I answered him gayly.

“As to yesterday, I believe you, but as for today, it is difficult to agree with your opinion,” said he.

My landlady’s servant waited upon me, for I had moved into her rooms simply because on my return from the duel I had sent Afanasy back to the regiment, as I felt ashamed to look him in the face after my last interview with him.

So prone is the man of the world to be ashamed of any righteous action.

“I have,” said my visitor, “with great interest listened to you speaking in different houses the last few days and I wanted at last to make your personal acquaintance, so as to talk to you more intimately. Can you, dear sir, grant me this favor?”

“Go!” said I, “confess.

Everything passes, only the truth remains.

Your children will understand, when they grow up, the nobility of your resolution.”

You can pass through the world doing wrong, but there’s no turning back. Now I dare not love my neighbor nor even my own children. Good God, my children will understand, perhaps, what my punishment has cost me and will not condemn me!

God is not in strength but in truth.

”

“I have just come from my wife,” he went on. “Do you understand what the word ‘wife’ means? When I went out, the children called to me, ‘Goodbye, father, make haste back to read The Children’s Magazine with us.’ No, you don’t understand that!

No one is wise from another man’s woe.

”

What can become of him if he is in such bondage to the habit of satisfying the innumerable desires he has created for himself? He is isolated, and what concern has he with the rest of humanity?

They have succeeded in accumulating a greater mass of objects, but the joy in the world has grown less.

The monastic way is very different. Obedience, fasting and prayer are laughed at, yet only through them lies the way to real, true freedom.

It is different with the upper classes. They, following science, want to base justice on reason alone, but not with Christ, as before, and they have already proclaimed that there is no crime, that there is no sin.

And that’s consistent, for if you have no God what is the meaning of crime?

In Europe the people are already rising up against the rich with violence, and the leaders of the people are everywhere leading them to bloodshed, and teaching them that their wrath is righteous. But their “wrath is accursed, for it is cruel.”

And God will look on you both more graciously, for if you have had so much pity on him, how much will He have pity Who is infinitely more loving and merciful than you! And He will forgive him for your sake.

Brothers, have no fear of men’s sin. Love a man even in his sin, for that is the semblance of Divine Love and is the highest love on earth.

Love all God’s creation, the whole and every grain of sand in it. Love every leaf, every ray of God’s light. Love the animals, love the plants, love everything. If you love everything, you will perceive the divine mystery in things.

Brothers, have no fear of men’s sin. Love a man even in his sin, for that is the semblance of Divine Love and is the highest love on earth.

Love all God’s creation, the whole and every grain of sand in it. Love every leaf, every ray of God’s light.

Love the animals, love the plants, love everything. If you love everything, you will perceive the divine mystery in things. Once you perceive it, you will begin to comprehend it better every day.

At some thoughts one stands perplexed, especially at the sight of men’s sin, and wonders whether one should use force or humble love. Always decide to use humble love. If you resolve on that once for all, you may subdue the whole world.

Loving humility is marvelously strong, the strongest of all things, and there is nothing else like it.

Every day and every hour, every minute, walk round yourself and watch yourself, and see that your image is a seemly one. You pass by a little child, you pass by, spiteful, with ugly words, with wrathful heart;

Always decide to use humble love. If you resolve on that once for all, you may subdue the whole world. Loving humility is marvelously strong, the strongest of all things, and there is nothing else like it.

Every day and every hour, every minute, walk round yourself and watch yourself, and see that your image is a seemly one.

You pass by a little child, you pass by, spiteful, with ugly words, with wrathful heart; you may not have noticed the child, but he has seen you, and your image, unseemly and ignoble, may remain in his defenseless heart.

You don’t know it, but you may have sown an evil seed in him and it may grow, and all because you were not careful before the child, because you did not foster in yourself a careful, actively benevolent love.

Brothers, love is a teacher; but one must know how to acquire it, for it is hard to acquire, it is dearly bought, it is won slowly by long labor.

For we must love not only occasionally, for a moment, but forever. Everyone can love occasionally, even the wicked can.

Brothers, love is a teacher; but one must know how to acquire it, for it is hard to acquire, it is dearly bought, it is won slowly by long labor.

For we must love not only occasionally, for a moment, but forever. Everyone can love occasionally, even the wicked can.

My brother asked the birds to forgive him; that sounds senseless, but it is right; for all is like an ocean, all is flowing and blending; a touch in one place sets up movement at the other end of the earth.

It’s all like an ocean, I tell you. Then you would pray to the birds too, consumed by an all-embracing love, in a sort of transport, and pray that they too will forgive you your sin.

Treasure this ecstasy, however senseless it may seem to men.

My friends, pray to God for gladness. Be glad as children, as the birds of heaven. And let not the sin of men confound you in your doings. Fear not that it will wear away your work and hinder its being accomplished.

Remember particularly that you cannot be a judge of anyone.

For no one can judge a criminal, until he recognizes that he is just such a criminal as the man standing before him, and that he perhaps is more than all men to blame for that crime.

When he understands that, he will be able to be a judge. Though that sounds absurd, it is true. If I had been righteous myself, perhaps there would have been no criminal standing before me.

And if they are not saved hereafter, then their sons will be saved, for your light will not die even when you are dead. The righteous man departs, but his light remains. Men are always saved after the death of the deliverer.

Men reject their prophets and slay them, but they love their martyrs and honor those whom they have slain.

You are working for the whole, you are acting for the future. Seek no reward, for great is your reward on this earth: the spiritual joy which is only vouchsafed to the righteous man.

Believe that if they were not saved, they will be saved hereafter. And if they are not saved hereafter, then their sons will be saved, for your light will not die even when you are dead.

The righteous man departs, but his light remains.

Men are always saved after the death of the deliverer. Men reject their prophets and slay them, but they love their martyrs and honor those whom they have slain. You are working for the whole, you are acting for the future.

Fathers and teachers, I ponder, “What is hell?”

I maintain that it is the suffering of being unable to love.

Once in infinite existence, immeasurable in time and space, a spiritual creature was given on his coming to earth, the power of saying, “I am and I love.”

there are some fearful ones who have given themselves over to Satan and his proud spirit entirely. For such, hell is voluntary and ever consuming; they are tortured by their own choice. For they have cursed themselves, cursing God and life.

They live upon their vindictive pride like a starving man in the desert sucking blood out of his own body.

But they are never satisfied, and they refuse forgiveness, they curse God Who calls them. They cannot behold the living God without hatred, and they cry out that the God of life should be annihilated, that God should destroy Himself and His own creation.

“And where are you flying to?”

“If you know too much, you’ll get old too soon.”

“Upon my word! You are highly delighted … I’ve never seen you like this before. You are dressed up as if you were going to a ball.” Rakitin looked her up and down.

So the angel wept and went away. So that’s the story, Alyosha; I know it by heart, for I am that wicked woman myself. I boasted to Rakitin that I had given away an onion, but to you I’ll say: ‘

I’ve done nothing but give away one onion all my life, that’s the only good deed I’ve done.

’ So don’t praise me, Alyosha, don’t think me good, I am bad, I am a wicked woman and you make me ashamed if you praise me. Eh, I must confess everything. Listen, Alyosha.

“One loves people for some reason, but what have either of you done for me?”

“You should love people without a reason, as Alyosha does.”

“How does he love you? How has he shown it, that you make such a fuss about it?”

he has wrung my heart. … He is the first, the only one who has pitied me, that’s what it is. Why did you not come before, you angel?” She fell on her knees before him as though in a sudden frenzy. “

I’ve been waiting all my life for someone like you, I knew that someone like you would come and forgive me.

I believed that, nasty as I am, someone would really love me, not only with a shameful love!”

“What have I done to you?” answered Alyosha, bending over her with a tender smile, and gently taking her by the hands; “

I only gave you an onion, nothing but a tiny little onion, that was all!

”

“Ah, yes, I was missing that, and I didn’t want to miss it, I love that passage: it’s Cana of Galilee, the first miracle. … Ah, that miracle! Ah, that sweet miracle!

It was not men’s grief, but their joy Christ visited, He worked His first miracle to help men’s gladness.

… ‘He who loves men loves their gladness, too’ … He was always repeating that, it was one of his leading ideas. … ‘There’s no living without joy,’ Mitya says. … Yes, Mitya.

The white towers and golden domes of the cathedral gleamed out against the sapphire sky. The gorgeous autumn flowers, in the beds round the house, were slumbering till morning. The silence of earth seemed to melt into the silence of the heavens.

The mystery of earth was one with the mystery of the stars.

…

He could not have told why he longed so irresistibly to kiss it, to kiss it all. But he kissed it weeping, sobbing and watering it with his tears, and vowed passionately to love it, to love it forever and ever. “

Water the earth with the tears of your joy and love those tears,

” echoed in his soul.

It was as though some idea had seized the sovereignty of his mind—and it was for all his life and forever and ever.

He had fallen on the earth a weak boy, but he rose up a resolute champion, and he knew and felt it suddenly at the very moment of his ecstasy.

And never, never, all his life long, could Alyosha forget that minute.

It is not so with the really jealous man. It is hard to imagine what some jealous men can make up their mind to and overlook, and what they can forgive!

The jealous are the readiest of all to forgive, and all women know it.

The jealous man can forgive extraordinarily quickly (though, of course, after a violent scene), and he is able to forgive infidelity almost conclusively proved, the very kisses and embraces he has seen, if only he can somehow be convinced that it has all been “for …

I’m quarreling with my steward about it, and I’ve just borrowed five hundred roubles from Miüsov, myself. No, no, I’ve no money. And, do you know, Dmitri Fyodorovitch, if I had, I wouldn’t give it to you. In the first place I never lend money.

Lending money means losing friends.

And I wouldn’t give it to you particularly. I wouldn’t give it you, because I like you and want to save you, for all you need is the goldmines, the goldmines, the goldmines!”

No, no, I’ve no money. And, do you know, Dmitri Fyodorovitch, if I had, I wouldn’t give it to you. In the first place I never lend money. Lending money means losing friends. And I wouldn’t give it to you particularly.

I wouldn’t give it you, because I like you and want to save you, for all you need is the goldmines, the goldmines, the goldmines!

”

“

I’m drunk in spirit, Pyotr Ilyitch, drunk in spirit! But that’s enough!

”

“That’s not what I mean. I’m talking of a higher order. There’s no order in me, no higher order. But … that’s all over. There’s no need to grieve about it. It’s too late, damn it!

My whole life has been disorder, and one must set it in order.

Is that a pun, eh?”

“That’s all foolery, too! Drink, and don’t be fanciful. I love life. I’ve loved life too much, shamefully much. Enough! Let’s drink to life, dear boy, I propose the toast. Why am I pleased with myself?

I’m a scoundrel, but I’m satisfied with myself. And yet I’m tortured by the thought that I’m a scoundrel, but satisfied with myself.

I bless the creation. I’m ready to bless God and His creation directly, but … I must kill one noxious insect for fear it should crawl and spoil life for others. … Let us drink to life, dear brother.

“That’s all foolery, too! Drink, and don’t be fanciful.

I love life. I’ve loved life too much, shamefully much.

Enough! Let’s drink to life, dear boy, I propose the toast. Why am I pleased with myself? I’m a scoundrel, but I’m satisfied with myself. And yet I’m tortured by the thought that I’m a scoundrel, but satisfied with myself. I bless the creation.

“

I stole twenty copecks from my mother when I was nine years old, and gave it back three days after.

”

“Then you know that one has to make way. What would you say to a driver who wouldn’t make way for anyone, but would just drive on and crush people? No, a driver mustn’t run over people.

One can’t run over a man. One can’t spoil people’s lives.

And if you have spoilt a life—punish yourself. … If only you’ve spoilt, if only you’ve ruined anyone’s life—punish yourself and go away.”

His whole countenance suddenly changed. The solemn and tragic expression with which he had entered vanished completely, and a look of something childlike came into his face. He seemed to have become suddenly gentle and subdued.

He looked shyly and happily at everyone, with a continual nervous little laugh, and the blissful expression of a dog who has done wrong, been punished, and forgiven.

He seemed to have forgotten everything, and was looking round at everyone with a childlike smile of delight. He looked at Grushenka, laughing continually, and bringing his chair close up to her.

And what was worse, she’d had all my little property transferred to her beforehand. ‘You’re an educated man,’ she said to me. ‘You can always get your living.’ She settled my business with that. A venerable bishop once said to me: ‘

One of your wives was lame, but the other was too light-footed.

’ He he!”

“

For my education. People can thrash a man for anything,

” Maximov concluded, briefly and sententiously.

And it wasn’t for his sake, it was my anger made me miserable. And this isn’t he at all! Was he like this? It might be his father! Where did you get your wig from?

He was a falcon, but this is a gander.

He used to laugh and sing to me. … And I’ve been crying for five years, damned fool, abject, shameless I was!”

… Yes. … But today let us dance. Tomorrow to the nunnery, but today we’ll dance. I want to play today, good people, and what of it? God will forgive us.

If I were God, I’d forgive everyone: ‘My dear sinners, from this day forth I forgive you.’

I’m going to beg forgiveness: ‘Forgive me, good people, a silly wench.’ I’m a beast, that’s what I am. But I want to pray. I gave a little onion. Wicked as I’ve been, I want to pray. Mitya, let them dance, don’t stop them.

“Be quiet, boy! If I call him a scoundrel, it doesn’t mean that I called all Poland so.

One łajdak doesn’t make a Poland.

Be quiet, my pretty boy, eat a sweetmeat.”

“Allow me, gentlemen, allow me one minute more,” interposed Mitya, putting his elbows on the table and covering his face with his hands. “Let me have a moment to think, let me breathe, gentlemen. All this is horribly upsetting, horribly.

A man is not a drum, gentlemen!

”

“It’s not a question of dreams now, gentlemen—this is realism, this is real life!

I’m a wolf and you’re the hunters. Well, hunt him down!

”

I understand, of course, that I have come to the vital point. The old man’s lying there now with his skull broken, while I—after dramatically describing how I wanted to kill him, and how I snatched up the pestle—I suddenly run away from the window.

A romance! Poetry! As though one could believe a fellow on his word.

Ha ha! You are scoffers, gentlemen!”

“Yes. The valet Smerdyakov, and Heaven.

Write down about Heaven. That may be of use. Besides, you will need God yourselves.

”

“From my conviction—my impression. Because Smerdyakov is a man of the most abject character and a coward.

He’s not a coward, he’s the epitome of all the cowardice in the world walking on two legs.

He has the heart of a chicken. When he talked to me, he was always trembling for fear I should kill him, though I never raised my hand against him. He fell at my feet and blubbered;

“Yes, I see a vital difference!

Every man may be a scoundrel, and perhaps every man is a scoundrel, but not everyone can be a thief, it takes an arch-scoundrel to be that.

Oh, of course, I don’t know how to make these fine distinctions … but a thief is lower than a scoundrel, that’s my conviction.

Oh, gentlemen, I tell you again, with a bleeding heart, I have learnt a great deal this night.

I have learnt that it’s not only impossible to live a scoundrel, but impossible to die a scoundrel.

… No, gentlemen, one must die honest. …”

Well, I told a fib, and that was the end of it, once I’d said it, I didn’t care to correct it.

What does a man tell lies for sometimes?

”

“As he has spoken now, believe it! I know him.

He’ll say anything as a joke or from obstinacy, but he’ll never deceive you against his conscience.

He’s telling the whole truth, you may believe it.”

“It’s the babe,” answered the driver, “the babe weeping.”

And Mitya was struck by his saying, in his peasant way, “the babe,” and he liked the peasant’s calling it a “babe.” There seemed more pity in it.

“But why is it weeping?” Mitya persisted stupidly, “why are its little arms bare? Why don’t they wrap it up?”

“No, no,” Mitya, as it were, still did not understand. “Tell me why it is those poor mothers stand there?

Why are people poor? Why is the babe poor? Why is the steppe barren?

Why don’t they hug each other and kiss? Why don’t they sing songs of joy? Why are they so dark from black misery? Why don’t they feed the babe?”

“

Gentlemen, we’re all cruel, we’re all monsters, we all make men weep, and mothers, and babes at the breast, but of all, let it be settled here, now, of all I am the lowest reptile!

I’ve sworn to amend, and every day I’ve done the same filthy things. I understand now that such men as I need a blow, a blow of destiny to catch them as with a noose, and bind them by a force from without.

I’ve sworn to amend, and every day I’ve done the same filthy things.

I understand now that such men as I need a blow, a blow of destiny to catch them as with a noose, and bind them by a force from without.

Never, never should I have risen of myself! But the thunderbolt has fallen. I accept the torture of accusation, and my public shame, I want to suffer and by suffering I shall be purified. Perhaps I shall be purified, gentlemen?

Never, never should I have risen of myself! But the thunderbolt has fallen. I accept the torture of accusation, and my public shame,

I want to suffer and by suffering I shall be purified.

Perhaps I shall be purified, gentlemen? But listen, for the last time, I am not guilty of my father’s blood. I accept my punishment, not because I killed him, but because I meant to kill him, and perhaps I really might have killed him.

Nikolay Parfenovitch’s little figure was positively majestic by the time he had finished speaking. It struck Mitya that in another minute this “boy” would take his arm, lead him to another corner, and renew their conversation about “girls.”

But many quite irrelevant and inappropriate thoughts sometimes occur even to a prisoner when he is being led out to execution.

“Gentlemen, you are good, you are humane, may I see her to say ‘goodbye’ for the last time?” asked Mitya.

“

Oh, children, children, how fraught with peril are your years!

There’s no help for it, chickens, I shall have to stay with you I don’t know how long. And time is passing, time is passing, oogh!”

“No, it’s not funny; you are wrong there.

There’s nothing funny in nature, however funny it may seem to man with his prejudices.

If dogs could reason and criticize us they’d be sure to find just as much that would be funny to them, if not far more, in the social relations of men, their masters—far more, indeed.

It’s because people are not used to it. Everything is habit with men, everything even in their social and political relations.

Habit is the great motive-power.

What a funny-looking peasant!”

“How do I know? Now there’ll be a hubbub among them all day.

I like to stir up fools in every class of society.

There’s another blockhead, that peasant there. You know, they say ‘there’s no one stupider than a stupid Frenchman,’ but a stupid Russian shows it in his face just as much.

I shall ask him when I get to know him. It’s a pity I am so short, though. Tuzikov is younger than I am, yet he is half a head taller. But I have a clever face. I am not good-looking.

I know I’m hideous, but I’ve a clever face.

I mustn’t talk too freely; if I fall into his arms all at once, he may think—Tfoo! how horrible if he should think—!”

“Oh, no; there are people of deep feeling who have been somehow crushed. Buffoonery in them is a form of resentful irony against those to whom they daren’t speak the truth, from having been for years humiliated and intimidated by them.

Believe me, Krassotkin, that sort of buffoonery is sometimes tragic in the extreme.

His whole life now is centered in Ilusha, and if Ilusha dies, he will either go mad with grief or kill himself. I feel almost certain of that when I look at him now.”

“Oh, no; there are people of deep feeling who have been somehow crushed.

Buffoonery in them is a form of resentful irony against those to whom they daren’t speak the truth, from having been for years humiliated and intimidated by them.

Believe me, Krassotkin, that sort of buffoonery is sometimes tragic in the extreme. His whole life now is centered in Ilusha, and if Ilusha dies, he will either go mad with grief or kill himself.

“

Yes, universal history! It’s the study of the successive follies of mankind and nothing more.

The only subjects I respect are mathematics and natural science,” said Kolya. He was showing off and he stole a glance at Alyosha; his was the only opinion he was afraid of there. But Alyosha was still silent and still serious as before.

“The study of the classics, if you ask my opinion, is simply a police measure, that’s simply why it has been introduced into our schools.” By degrees Kolya began to get breathless again. “

Latin and Greek were introduced because they are a bore and because they stupefy the intellect.

It was dull before, so what could they do to make things duller? It was senseless enough before, so what could they do to make it more senseless? So they thought of Greek and Latin.

You really are not like everyone else, here you are not ashamed to confess to something bad and even ridiculous. And who will admit so much in these days? No one. And people have even ceased to feel the impulse to self-criticism.

Don’t be like everyone else, even if you are the only one.

”

“

But you will bless life on the whole, all the same.

”

“

I can’t help it, I am not God!

” the doctor answered offhand, though with the customary impressiveness.

“I tell you you are silly, Alyosha. You know nothing about it, with all your cleverness.

I am not offended that he is jealous of a girl like me. I would be offended if he were not jealous.

I am like that. I am not offended at jealousy. I have a fierce heart, too. I can be jealous myself. Only what offends me is that he doesn’t love me at all. I tell you he is jealous now on purpose. Am I blind?

a man sits singing a song, suddenly something annoys him, he takes a pistol and shoots the first person he comes across, and no one blames him for it. I read that lately, and all the doctors confirm it.

The doctors are always confirming; they confirm anything.

Why, my Lise is in a state of aberration. She made me cry again yesterday, and the day before, too, and today I suddenly realized that it’s all due to aberration. Oh, Lise grieves me so! I believe she’s quite mad.

“I wanted to tell you of a longing I have.

I should like someone to torture me, marry me and then torture me, deceive me and go away. I don’t want to be happy.

”

“So that everything might be destroyed.

Ah, how nice it would be if everything were destroyed!

You know, Alyosha, I sometimes think of doing a fearful lot of harm and everything bad, and I should do it for a long while on the sly and suddenly everyone would find it out.

“

There are moments when people love crime,

” said Alyosha thoughtfully.

“Yes, yes! You have uttered my thought; they love crime, everyone loves crime, they love it always, not at some ‘moments.’ You know, it’s as though people have made an agreement to lie about it and have lied about it ever since.

They all declare that they hate evil, but secretly they all love it.

”

“Yes, loves it; everyone loves it!

Everybody says it’s so awful, but secretly they simply love it.

I for one love it.”

“

I am a wretch, wretch, wretch, wretch!

”

Why was it I dreamed of that ‘babe’ at such a moment? ‘Why is the babe so poor?’ That was a sign to me at that moment. It’s for the babe I’m going.

Because we are all responsible for all.

For all the ‘babes,’ for there are big children as well as little children. All are ‘babes.’ I go for all, because someone must go for all. I didn’t kill father, but I’ve got to go. I accept it.

it’s His privilege—a grand one. Ah, man should be dissolved in prayer! What should I be underground there without God? Rakitin’s laughing!

If they drive God from the earth, we shall shelter Him underground.

One cannot exist in prison without God; it’s even more impossible than out of prison. And then we men underground will sing from the bowels of the earth a glorious hymn to God, with Whom is joy. Hail to God and His joy!

Ah, man should be dissolved in prayer! What should I be underground there without God? Rakitin’s laughing! If they drive God from the earth, we shall shelter Him underground. One cannot exist in prison without God; it’s even more impossible than out of prison.

And then we men underground will sing from the bowels of the earth a glorious hymn to God, with Whom is joy.

Hail to God and His joy! I love Him!”

In thousands of agonies—I exist. I’m tormented on the rack—but I exist! Though I sit alone on a pillar—I exist!

I see the sun, and if I don’t see the sun, I know it’s there.

And there’s a whole life in that, in knowing that the sun is there. Alyosha, my angel, all these philosophies are the death of me. Damn them! Brother Ivan—”

It was to stifle them in myself, to still them, to smother them. Ivan is not Rakitin, there is an idea in him.

Ivan is a sphinx and is silent; he is always silent.

It’s God that’s worrying me. That’s the only thing that’s worrying me. What if He doesn’t exist? What if Rakitin’s right—that it’s an idea made up by men? Then if He doesn’t exist, man is the chief of the earth, of the universe. Magnificent!

It’s God that’s worrying me. That’s the only thing that’s worrying me. What if He doesn’t exist? What if Rakitin’s right—that it’s an idea made up by men? Then if He doesn’t exist, man is the chief of the earth, of the universe. Magnificent!

Only how is he going to be good without God? That’s the question.

I always come back to that. For whom is man going to love then? To whom will he be thankful? To whom will he sing the hymn? Rakitin laughs. Rakitin says that one can love humanity without God.

She knows that I said of her at Mokroe that she was a woman of ‘great wrath.’ They repeated it. Yes, the facts against me have grown numerous as the sands of the sea. Grigory sticks to his point. Grigory’s honest, but a fool.

Many people are honest because they are fools: that’s Rakitin’s idea.

Grigory’s my enemy. And there are some people who are better as foes than friends. I mean Katerina Ivanovna. I am afraid, oh, I am afraid she will tell how she bowed to the ground after that four thousand.

“

God preserve you, my dear boy, from ever asking forgiveness for a fault from a woman you love.

From one you love especially, however greatly you may have been in fault. For a woman—devil only knows what to make of a woman! I know something about them, anyway. But try acknowledging you are in fault to a woman.

“

Forgive me, I thought you were like me.

”

“I shan’t be altogether sorry, for then my object will be attained.

If you kick me, you must believe in my reality, for people don’t kick ghosts.

Joking apart, it doesn’t matter to me, scold if you like, though it’s better to be a trifle more polite even to me. ‘Fool, flunkey!’ what words!”

Please don’t laugh, that’s just what I like, to become superstitious. I adopt all your habits here: I’ve grown fond of going to the public baths, would you believe it? and I go and steam myself with merchants and priests.

What I dream of is becoming incarnate once for all and irrevocably in the form of some merchant’s wife weighing eighteen stone, and of believing all she believes.

My ideal is to go to church and offer a candle in simple-hearted faith, upon my word it is. Then there would be an end to my sufferings. I like being doctored too;

I love men genuinely, I’ve been greatly calumniated! Here when I stay with you from time to time, my life gains a kind of reality and that’s what I like most of all.

You see, like you, I suffer from the fantastic and so I love the realism of earth.

Here, with you, everything is circumscribed, here all is formulated and geometrical, while we have nothing but indeterminate equations! I wander about here dreaming. I like dreaming. Besides, on earth I become superstitious. Please don’t laugh, that’s just what I like, to become superstitious.

Yet it won’t do, it might injure our reputation. As a joke, if you like.’ But I thought as a joke it wouldn’t be very witty. So it wasn’t printed. And do you know, I have felt sore about it to this day.

My best feelings, gratitude, for instance, are literally denied me simply from my social position.

”

Well, they’ve chosen their scapegoat, they’ve made me write the column of criticism and so life was made possible. We understand that comedy; I, for instance, simply ask for annihilation. No, live, I am told, for there’d be nothing without you.

If everything in the universe were sensible, nothing would happen.

There would be no events without you, and there must be events. So against the grain I serve to produce events and do what’s irrational because I am commanded to.

If everything in the universe were sensible, nothing would happen. There would be no events without you, and there must be events. So against the grain I serve to produce events and do what’s irrational because I am commanded to.

For all their indisputable intelligence, men take this farce as something serious, and that is their tragedy.

They suffer, of course … but then they live, they live a real life, not a fantastic one, for suffering is life. Without suffering what would be the pleasure of it? It would be transformed into an endless church service;

Without suffering what would be the pleasure of it? It would be transformed into an endless church service; it would be holy, but tedious. But what about me? I suffer, but still, I don’t live.

I am x in an indeterminate equation.

I am a sort of phantom in life who has lost all beginning and end, and who has even forgotten his own name. You are laughing—no, you are not laughing, you are angry again.

Without suffering what would be the pleasure of it? It would be transformed into an endless church service; it would be holy, but tedious. But what about me? I suffer, but still, I don’t live. I am x in an indeterminate equation.

I am a sort of phantom in life who has lost all beginning and end, and who has even forgotten his own name.

You are laughing—no, you are not laughing, you are angry again.

And who’s the better for it? Only those who have got no conscience, for how can they be tortured by conscience when they have none? But decent people who have conscience and a sense of honor suffer for it.

Reforms, when the ground has not been prepared for them, especially if they are institutions copied from abroad, do nothing but mischief! The ancient fire was better.

Well, this man, who was condemned to the quadrillion kilometers, stood still, looked round and lay down across the road. ‘I won’t go, I refuse on principle!’

The ancient fire was better. Well, this man, who was condemned to the quadrillion kilometers, stood still, looked round and lay down across the road. ‘I won’t go, I refuse on principle!’

Take the soul of an enlightened Russian atheist and mix it with the soul of the prophet Jonah, who sulked for three days and nights in the belly of the whale, and you get the character of that thinker who lay across the road.

”

“But you have the thousandth of a grain.

Homeopathic doses perhaps are the strongest.

Confess that you have faith even to the ten-thousandth of a grain.”

Everything on earth would have been extinguished at once and no events could have occurred. And so, solely from a sense of duty and my social position, I was forced to suppress the good moment and to stick to my nasty task.

Somebody takes all the credit of what’s good for Himself, and nothing but nastiness is left for me.

But I don’t envy the honor of a life of idle imposture, I am not ambitious.

… and no immortality, the new man may well become the man-god, even if he is the only one in the whole world, and promoted to his new position, he may lightheartedly overstep all the barriers of the old morality of the old slave-man, if necessary.

There is no law for God. Where God stands, the place is holy.

Where I stand will be at once the foremost place … ‘all things are lawful’ and that’s the end of it! That’s all very charming; but if you want to swindle why do you want a moral sanction for doing it?

You’ve not made up your mind. You’ll sit all night deliberating whether to go or not. But you will go; you know you’ll go. You know that whichever way you decide, the decision does not depend on you.

You’ll go because you won’t dare not to go.

Why won’t you dare? You must guess that for yourself. That’s a riddle for you!’ He got up and went away. You came and he went. He called me a coward, Alyosha! Le mot de l’énigme is that I am a coward.

But I am not guilty of the death of that old man, my enemy and my father. No, no, I am not guilty of robbing him! I could not be.

Dmitri Karamazov is a scoundrel, but not a thief.

”

“I am a servant,” Grigory said suddenly, in a loud and distinct voice. “

If my betters think fit to make game of me, it is my duty to suffer it.

”

“They keep up the sham with one another. Liars! They all desire the death of their fathers. One reptile devours another. … If there hadn’t been a murder, they’d have been angry and gone home ill-humored.

It’s a spectacle they want! Panem et circenses.

Though I am one to talk! Have you any water? Give me a drink for Christ’s sake!” He suddenly clutched his head.

“Gentlemen of the jury,” began the prosecutor, “this case has made a stir throughout Russia. But what is there to wonder at, what is there so peculiarly horrifying in it for us? We are so accustomed to such crimes!

That’s what’s so horrible, that such dark deeds have ceased to horrify us.

What ought to horrify us is that we are so accustomed to it, and not this or that isolated crime. What are the causes of our indifference, our lukewarm attitude to such deeds, to such signs of the times, ominous of an unenviable future?

And that’s true, they need continually this unnatural mixture. Two extremes at the same moment, or they are miserable and dissatisfied and their existence is incomplete.

They are wide, wide as mother Russia; they include everything and put up with everything.

“By the way, gentlemen of the jury, we’ve just touched upon that three thousand roubles, and I will venture to anticipate things a little.

Remember the brilliant remark made by a young observer who has seen the Karamazov family at close quarters—Mr. Rakitin: ‘

The sense of their own degradation is as essential to those reckless, unbridled natures as the sense of their lofty generosity.

’ And that’s true, they need continually this unnatural mixture. Two extremes at the same moment, or they are miserable and dissatisfied and their existence is incomplete. They are wide, wide as mother Russia; they include everything and put up with everything.

The pistol will settle everything, the pistol is the only way out! But beyond—I don’t know whether Karamazov wondered at that moment ‘What lies beyond,’ and whether Karamazov could, like Hamlet, wonder ‘What lies beyond.’

No, gentlemen of the jury, they have their Hamlets, but we still have our Karamazovs!

”

I shall be asked. Why, the catastrophe may take place at once, of course; he hadn’t yet considered how to meet it, he hadn’t the time, his head was throbbing and his heart was with her, but money—money was indispensable in any case!

With money a man is always a man.

Perhaps such foresight at such a moment may strike you as unnatural? But he assures us himself that a month before, at a critical and exciting moment, he had halved his money and sewn it up in a little bag.

‘And do you remember that clearly?’ ‘No, I don’t.’ And he was angry, very angry, and yet imagine not remembering it! At the most terrible moments of man’s life, for instance when he is being led to execution, he remembers just such trifles.

He will forget anything but some green roof that has flashed past him on the road, or a jackdaw on a cross⁠—that he will remember.

He concealed the making of that little bag from his household, he must have remembered his humiliating fear that someone might come in and find him needle in hand, how at the slightest sound he slipped behind the screen (there is a screen in his …

Before I started on my way here, I was warned in Petersburg, and was myself aware, that I should find here a talented opponent whose psychological insight and subtlety had gained him peculiar renown in legal circles of recent years.

But profound as psychology is, it’s a knife that cuts both ways.

” (Laughter among the public.) “You will, of course, forgive me my comparison; I can’t boast of eloquence. But I will take as an example any point in the prosecutor’s speech.

Here we have a different psychology. I have purposely resorted to this method, gentlemen of the jury, to show that you can prove anything by it. It all depends on who makes use of it.

Psychology lures even most serious people into romancing, and quite unconsciously.

I am speaking of the abuse of psychology, gentlemen.”

Besides, in another man’s hand a crust always seems larger, and no one of these witnesses counted that money; they all judged simply at sight. And the witness Maximov has testified that the prisoner had twenty thousand in his hand.

You see, gentlemen of the jury, psychology is a two-edged weapon.

Let me turn the other edge now and see what comes of it.

Some word might have been uttered by Fyodor Pavlovitch, some exclamation which showed the prisoner that she was not there. Why should we assume everything as we imagine it, as we make up our minds to imagine it?

A thousand things may happen in reality which elude the subtlest imagination.

“ ‘Yes, but Grigory saw the door open and so the prisoner certainly was in the house, therefore he killed him.’ Now about that door, gentlemen of the jury.

The destination of that sum—a sum which would have made his career—must have been hateful to him. Moreover, he saw three thousand roubles in new rainbow-colored notes. (I asked him about that on purpose.)

Oh, beware of showing an ambitious and envious man a large sum of money at once!

And it was the first time he had seen so much money in the hands of one man. The sight of the rainbow-colored notes may have made a morbid impression on his imagination, but with no immediate results.