The Dreams of a Ridiculous Man by Dostoevsky

"I may almost say that the world now seemed created for me a lone: if I shot myself the world would cease to be at least for me. I say nothing of its being likely that nothing will exist for any one when I am gone, and that as soon as my consciousness is extinguished the whole world will vanish too and become void like a phantom, as a mere appurtenance of my consciousness, for possibly all this world and all these people are only me myself."

Who hasn't had thoughts like these. Maybe everything we have created, maybe it is all a dream. If that is true, then we are damn good creators. (Excuse the expression)

"Dreams seem to be spurred on not by reason or desire, not by the head but by the heart"

"A dream! What is a dream? And is not our life a dream?"

"The main thing is to love others as oneself, that's the main thing, and that's everything; nothing else is needed-"

----

I loved the beautiful metaphor/allegory of the world he had found. My goodness it is just so easy to give in to all of these horrible things- and yet how naively and innocently we do it! "and they proclaimed that suffering was a beauty, for in suffering alone was there meaning." They became romantics after killing each other off and taking part in the evil nature of man! A little ironic, but so terribly true. And it is worst of all when raw cruelty comes out of the most innocent of men. - And so to love one another is the ultimate secret! To be what the people of his dream used to be; children!

White Nights by Dostoevsky

" 'And I do nothing but dream everyday that I at last I shall meet some one. Oh, if only you know how often I have been in love in that way...'
'How? With whom?'
'Why, with no one, with an ideal, with the one I dream of in my sleep. I make up regular romances in my dreams.' "

To be in love with an ideal is a masterstroke of Dostoevsky. The character was so concentrated on his imagination, that he preferred it to real life, for it suited his needs.

"Let me tell you that in those corners live strange people- dreamers. The dreamer- if you wan an exact definition- is not a human being, but a creature of an intermediate sort. For the most part he settles in some inaccessible corner, as though hiding from the light of day; once he slips into his corner, he grows to it like a snail, or, anyway, he is in that respect very much like that remarkable creature, which is an animal and a house both at once, and is called a tortoise."

My goodness what an interesting symbol. It so that he is at home everywhere he goes because he has his dreams. But are dreams enough? Do they fulfill our every desire? In those vague worlds that can only be reached in the imagination, is there something that always fulfills and never disappoints? Does the dreamer have to separate himself from reality in order to reach that world? -- And so- is he truly happy in playing God?-- He must be very secure in himself to not need anything but his imagination, to reject the whole world...

"At this moment, Nastenka, when we have met at last after such a long separation- for I have known you for ages, Nastaka, because I have been looking for someone for ages, and that is a sign that it was you I was looking for, and it was ordained that we should meet now- at this moment a thousand valves have opened in my head, and I must let myself flow in a river of words, or I shall choke."

"Now it breaks out spasmodically; and the book picked up aimlessly and at random, drops from my dreamer's hand before he haws reached the third page. His imagination is again stirred and at work, and again a new world, a new fascinating life opens vistas before him. A fresh dream- fresh happiness! A fresh rush of delicate, voluptuous poison! What is real life to him! To his corrupted eyes we live, you and I, Nastenka, so torpidly, slowly, insipidly; in his eyes we are all so dissatisfied with our fate, so exhausted by our life! And, truly, see how at first sight everything is cold, morose, as though ill-humoured among us... Poor things! thinks our dreamer. And it is no wonder that he thinks it! Look at these magic phantasms, which so enchantingly, so whimsically, so carelessly and freely group before him in such a magic, animated picture, in which the most prominent figure in the foreground is of course himself, our dreamer, in his precious person. See what varied adventures, what an endless swarm of ecstatic dreams."

Here the character points out the wonders of the imagination, when it serves the desires of its master. Why should it not be better than real life? Why anything is possible, what could be better?

"(...) sometime the mournful hour may strike, when for one day of that pitiful life he would give all his years of fantasy, and would give them not only for joy and for happiness, but without caring to make distinctions in that hour of sadness, remorse and unchecked grief. But so far that threatening time has not arrived- he desires nothing, because he is superior to all desire, because he has everything, because he is satiated, because he is the artist of his own life, and creates it for himself every hour to suit his latest whim. And you know this fantastic world of fairyland is so easily, so naturally created! As though it were not a delusion! Indeed, he is ready to believe at some moments that all this life is not suggested by feeling, is not mirage, not a delusion of the imagination, but that it is concrete, real, substantial!"

Interestingly enough, the character knows there will be a time when it will all end, when he sucked the wonders of the imagination dry. (Just as the book by George Sand: Lelia) And yet it isn't substantial! No matter how close the imagination gets to the real, for let's face it reality is the most spontaneous and refreshing, it still does not reach it! Sure, it travels from world to world "at every whim" and yet cannot reach the most obvious and most attainable: reality itself. He knows, and yet he avoids it.

"Yes, Nastenka, one deceives oneself and unconsciously believes that real true passion is stirring one's soul; one unconsciously believes that there is something living, tangible in one's immaterial dreams! And is it delusion? Here love, for instance, is bound up with all its fathomless joy, all its torturing agonies in his bosom...Only look at him, and you will be convinced! Would you believe, looking at him, dear Nastenka, that he has never known her whom he loves in his ecstatic dreams? Can it be that he has only seen her in seductive visions, and that this passion has been nothing but a dream? Surely they must have spent years hand in hand together- alone the two of them, casting off all the world and each uniting his or her life with the other's? Surely when the hour of parting came she must have lain sobbing and grieving on his bosom, heedless of the tempest raging under the sullen sky, heedless of the wind which snatches and bears away the tears from her black eyelashes? can all of that have been a dream- and that garden, dejected, forsaken, run wild, with its little moss-grown paths, solitary, gloomy, where they used to walk so happily together, where they hoped, grieved, loved, loved each other so long, 'so long and so fondly?' And that strange ancestral house where she spent so many years lonely and ad with her morose old husband, always silent and splenetic, who frightened them, while timid as children hid their love from each other? What torments they suffered, what agonies of terror, how innocent, how pure was their love, and how (I need hardly say Nastenka) malicious people were! And, good Heavens! surely he met her afterwards, far from their native shores, under alien skies, in the hot south in the divinely eternal city, in the in the dazzling splendor of the ball to the crash of music, in a palazzo (it must be in a palazzo), drowned in a sea of lights, on the balcony wreathed in myrtle and roses, where, recognizing him, she hurriedly removes her mask and whispering, 'I am free,' flings herself trembling into his arms, and with a cry of rapture, clinging to one another, in one instant they forget their sorrow and their parting and all their agonies, and the gloomy house and the old man and the dismal garden in that distant land, and the seat on which with a last passionate kiss she tore herself away from his arms numb with anguish and despair..."

Such detail says so much about the speaker. I love how beautifully he is distancing himself, and yet clearly is describing his own fantasies... It has such a beautiful despair and sadness to it, for no matter how marvelous of a fantasy it is, it is still not real. Even he, the poor man, admits that in the end it is not real, even after the adventures and the "years spent together" it is nothing but a mere dream, an illusion. And to live with such a thought! To consciously survive and coldbloodedly live through this mental torture, this sickening paradox, my goodness, that is sheer hell!

"(...) for such a life is a crime and a sin."

Which f reminds me of Chateubriand's novel called Rene- which shows what a torture it is to live that way.

"(...) it has seemed to me that I have lost all touch, all instinct for the actual, the real"

"(...)and not one hour is the same as another; while fancy is so spiritless, monotonous to vulgarity and easily scared, the slave of shadows of the idea, the slave of the first cloud that shrouds the sun, and overcasts with depression the true Petersburg heart so devoted to the sun- and what is fancy in depression! One feels inexhaustible fancy is weary at last and worn out with continual exercise, because one is growing into manhood, outgrowing one's old ideals: they are being shattered into fragments, into dust; if there is no other life one must build one up from the fragments. And meanwhile the soul longs and craves for something else! And in vain the dreamer rakes over his old dreams, as though seeking a spark among the embers, to fan them into flame, to warm his chilled heart by the rekindled fire, and to rouse up in it again all that was so sweet, that touched his heart, that set his blood boiling, drew tears from his eyes, and so luxuriously deceived him!"

When he says "what is fancy in depression", he says the most important obstacle to our imagination: ourselves. Because we are human, we quickly become tired of the miraculous, "the soul longs and craves for something else". We will not be satisfied! The imagination, no matter how manufactured and spontaneous it gets, it will never be enough! For if we are not satisfied in reality, what makes us think that we will be in other realms? I love the description of this "manufacturing" process, the manufacturing of dreams. The bad thing about the imagination is that it only comes from inside US, we have to "rekindle the fire" and "seek a spark among the embers", there is nothing new and refreshing, it is only the "old dreams", for we soon will suck each dream out. And the next won't be better than the other...until we will run out of dreams...And nothing will satisfy. That is the disadvantage of the imagination, and it apparently outweighs the advantages.

"I love to build up my present in harmony with the irrevocable past, and I often wander like a shadow, aimless, sad and dejected, about the streets and crooked lanes of Petersburg."

"Your fantastic world will grow pale, your dreams will fade and die and will fall like the yellow leaves from the trees..."

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"(...)for all that you have lost, all that, all was nothing, stupid, simple nullity, there has been nothing but dreams!"
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"While I ... I took it all for the genuine thing. I thought that she...
But, my God, how could I have been so blind, when everything had been taken by another already, when nothing was mine; when, in fact, her every tenderness to me, her anxiety, her love ... yes, love for me, was nothing else but joy a the thought of seeing another man so soon, desire to include me, too, in her happiness?"

" 'I love him; but I shall get over it, I must get over it, I cannot fail to get over it; I am getting over it, I feel that ... Who knows? Perhaps it will all end to-day, for I hate him, for he has been laughing at me, while you have been weeping here with me, for you have not repulsed me as he has, for you love me while he has never looked at me, for in fact, I love you myself ... Yes, I love you! I love you as you love me; I have told you so before, you heard it yourself- I love you because you are better than he is, because you are nobler than he is, because, because he--"

This pathetic attempt at rationality I assume is very common. What our noble side wants is not the same as our egoistic side. For we want to be pleased, and need what we cannot have...

"Who knows perhaps my whole love was a mistaken feeling, a delusion- perhaps it began in mischief, in nonsense, because I was kept so strictly by grandmother? Perhaps I out to love another man, not him, a different man, who would have pity on me and...and..."

What doubt there must be in thinking whether the love one is feeling might be a delusion and might not even exist.

"(...) and I saw myself just as I was now, fifteen years hence, older, in the same room, just as solitary, with the same Matryona grown no clever for those fifteen years."

He is seeing his doom! He is calmly looking at his horrible future in the face...what a traumatizing thing for a man. And yet, he himself chose his fate! He CHOSE his doom! My goodness what power the mind has! What power to reject true, real, sincere happiness and go with the "old dreams" instead!

"(...) and may you be blessed for that moment of blissful happiness which you gave to another, lonely and grateful heart!
My God, a whole moment of happiness! Is that too little for the whole of man's life?"

Such a horribly sad ending! And yet so fitting for this character, for this marvelous story. For he would not have been the character the reader is familiar with if he had accepted an invitation to reality. It was in his nature to refuse, because he had spent his entire life training himself to reject reality- and preferred to stay in his world than not be served at every "whim". That is all he knew. He preferred to live a disillusioned life than feel reality, feel real emotions caused by a real human being.

Why is it that he does not want to live in the real? Is it because there are so many obstacles, and that one cannot so easily achieve his happiness? Is it all about happiness? Or was he just lazy and could not deal with it all, he wanted all his desires satisfied at once- a sort of coward? Or was he happier with his old dreams because at least he knew what to expect, as people live their entire lives in a routine?

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This is the most romantic story Dostoevsky has ever written, and marvelously enough he combined the insane with the romantic. The extreme, fanatical romantic. His characters are so confused and lost that they take everything to the extreme, and prefer to hide from the world in their lukewarm imaginations, instead of tasting life. Which is something to be admired, since they are doing it completely consciously and know exactly what they are missing, and even then, they choose dreams.

*Notes from Underground by Dostoevsky

"I have been so accustomed to thinking and imagining everything according to books, and picturing everything in the world as I had previously made it up in fantasy, that at the moment I didn't even grasp the meaning of this strange circumstance."

To be stuck in this world that is dependent on books is such a new idea that has not been emphasized by any of the classic authors that I have currently read.

"They were so lacking in understanding of the most essential thing, so devoid of interest in the most important, most remarkable matters, that I involuntarily began to look upon them as my inferiors."

And it is this involuntary "reflex" that plunges one deeper into this thought of being better. And although it flatters the vanity, it eats at one, and it is a torment. For these little nuisances do not go away!

But here he is separating himself from society and forever giving himself up to his imagination. Once the break with reality is gone, nothing can stop one from living in the imagination.

"Yet how much love, Lord, how much love I experienced in those dreams of mine, in those 'escapes into everything lofty and beautiful.' This love might have existed only in fantasy, it might never have been applied to any human situation in reality, but it was so abundant, so overflowing, that afterwards there wasn't even any need to apply it in practice; that would have been too much of a luxury. Everything, however, always ended most satisfactorily- in a lazy and estatic transition to the realm of art; that is, to beautiful modes of existence, entirely ready-made, largely stolen from poets and novelists and adapted to serve every need and demand."

While I read this, I was struck by how easy it is to live in one's imagination. There are no obstacles and challenges, everything serves "every need and demand". Here the anti-hero is choosing the unreal instead of the real. He'd rather have his own fantasies than actually live them in real life, because there are no risks to be taken, it is within the secure limits of his world. He is completely in control. Which is also extremely cowardly, but what is one to do when one is forced to pick the imagination over the reality? These creatures belong there.

"Love is God's mystery and should be hidden from outsiders' eyes, whatever happens. That makes it holier, better."

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"Leave us on our own, without a book, and we shall instantly become confused and lost- we shall not know what to join, what to believe in, what to love and what to hate, what to respect and what to despise. We even feel it's too much of a burden to be men- men with real bodies, real blood of our own. We are ashamed of this, we deem it a disgrace, and try to be some impossible 'general humans.' We are stubborn, for a long time we haven't even begotten of living fathers, and we like this more and more. We have developed a real taste for it. We'll soon invent a way of getting born from an idea.
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If one quote could sum up my love for Russian Literature and how it is distinguished from the rest of the world, the above would be it. To be born of an idea!!!!!! The concept of it is so tremendous because it shows such devotion to the "Good and the Beautiful". These are the creatures that are better off left in the spiritual- as if the physical was a complete torture to them. For they are restrained and imprisoned, the physical is an obstacle to the spiritual for them. It shows such confusion and displacement, as if they are ghosts that cannot wait to be called back to their real worlds.

To be dependent on the ideal is a marvelous concept, and yet it brings so much suffering. Just because of the physical, just because they are commanded to mingle with society and try to function as a "general human", and at the same time knowing they will never be one. Their complete EXISTENCE is a PARADOX. To BE a paradox is sheer torture, and no wonder they mostly all go mad. The anti-hero's sacrifice the physical for the spiritual. They would rather live in their own world's and be insane instead of being cold blooded in this crude reality.

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This is my favorite book by Dostoevsky, and the most influencial on my love for Russian literature. He addresses the real anti-hero's so marvelously- the way he brings us "sane" readers to this madman's rants and flitting thoughts. It is not even that he is extremely confident in himself, because he constantly contradicts himself, even in the last sentence of the book! Nothing, nothing is even close to this topic: to prefer to live in one's own imagination. That is why I love Dostoevsky, and that is why this book symbolizes all the Russian authors: Despair and Confusion.

My favorite scene was how he was talking to the prostitute- how she even told him that he sounded like he was speaking out of a book. This man's whole essence was a book.

Loved it!

House of the Dead by Dostoevsky

"Humane treatment may humanize even one in whom the image of God has long been obscured."

How important humane treatment is! -- And notice that he says "obscured" and not completely diminished. The love for one another cultivates what little loves is left in the person. How delicate it all is; with what gentleness one needs to love, it is so fragile.

"The more fantastical his hopes, and the move conscious the dreamer himself was of their fantastical character, the more obstinately and shyly he concealed them in his heart, but he could not renounce them."

All the prisoners were dreamers, dreaming an impossible dream. That is all they could do- escape into their minds.

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How hard it must've been for Dostoevsky to write this book, based on his own experience. I thought it was extremely interesting how sick, and yet how insecure and lost the "criminals" were. How they needed to have each others respect in the prison, when they themselves had no morals whatsoever in real life. In the end, at their core, they still had an ounce of their conscience, which is quite a miracle after what they have done. Even the human beast cannot escape their humanity, that they are meant to become good.

This is a very fragile existence he described- for a man to be locked up with his mind.

Crime and Punishment by Dostoevsky

"Then a strange idea entered his head; that, perhaps, all his clothes were covered with blood, that, perhaps, there were a great many stains, but that he did not see them, did not notice them because his perceptions were failing, were going to pieces...his reason was clouded..."

The point where everything begins to fade, everything begins to be vague- that is when one should despair. If even that. How relative it all is really, perhaps there were many perhaps there were a lot of stains- it really did not matter, the deed was done.

"(...)ghosts are as it were, shreds and fragments of other worlds, the beginning of them. A man in health has, of course, no reason to see them, because he is above all a man of this earth and is bound for the sake of completeness and order to live only in this life. But as soon as one is ill, as soon as the normal earthly order of the organism is broken, one begins to realise the possibility of another world; and the more seriously ill one is, the closer one becomes one's contact with the other world, so that as soon as the man dies he steps straight into that world."

Such a fine line between our health and sickness...what it turns us into! How our priorities change...they are turned upside down. We no longer are concerned with this world- as it haunted our every thought- but are concerned of another "world" another realm that is so "close" to us...as if we "are the beginning" of other worlds, as if we transition our being into something else. Into "shreds and fragments"...

"And what if there are only spiders there, or something of that sort," he said suddenly.

...

We always imagine eternity as something beyond our conception, something vast, vast! But why must it be vast? Instead of all that, what if it's one little room, like a bathouse in the country black and grimy and spiders in every corner, and that's all eternity is? I sometimes fancy it like that."

I think the human mind needs to exaggerate what it does not understand, in order to heighten the contrast between it and the unknown. So that we could have an excuse, our excuse being that we are just human, inferior to the "impossible"... Could you imagine if it really was "a little room" and not vast? Why, it would crush humanity in one blow! It would kill all our hope of this eternity, and then we would really have nothing to live for! The unknown only occupying a little room! We NEED it to be vast!

"Let us go together...I've come to you, we are both accursed, led us go our way together!"

Oh to unite because of condemnation, extremely original. It usually follows that the noble unite- such a lesson.

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"The candle-end was flickering out in the battered candlestick, dimly lighting up in the poverty-stricken room. The murderer and the harlot who had so strangely been reading together the eternal book."

My favorite quote of the book. This is the most extreme contrast in humanity- the lowest point each gender could achieve and the holiest thing given to humanity. The contrast is so majestic! A sentence summing up the human nature...It gives one a sense of hope, that it is "strange" for them to be reading the eternal book, and yet they are the ones whom it is for essentially. It is not for the good people, for He came to the "outcasts" and not the righteous. It sums up the Bible too- there is such salvation in the sentence.

"Look at them running to and fro about the streets, everyone of them a scoundrel and a criminal at heart, and worse still, an idiot."

"Well, where are the crosses?"

"It was wounded pride that made him ill."

"But he did not repent of his crime."

That is what struck me the most! Why did Dostoevsky make it end like that? Why did he not repent?? My goodness this changed the whole POINT of the story! He would have been such a hero, such a noble man, and yet! Yet he did not repent of his crime...this made him not change, made his reason win against his true will. It shows us that it would be nice if we could listen to our conscious, but in the end, we do not- no matter how much it makes us suffer. Why do we need to live in hell? There was a passage but one of these authors- why we need to go out of our way to avoid heaven, while it is the most obvious passage- why we always pick hell. I guess humanity loves to suffer- enjoys the self loathing. My, that is a morbid thought.

"It was only in that he recognised his criminality, only in the food that he had been unsuccessful and had confessed it."

"They were renewed by love; thw heart of each held infinite sources of life for the heart of the other."

"Life had stepped into the place of theory and something quite different would work itself out in his mind."

His mind! That was the whole problem all along! Our minds, our reason can be the real prison-where our true selves are trapped.

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Marvelous story of the unconscious. A lesson on what extreme power our minds have over ourselves. He did not repent of his crime, even after all that he had suffered. This self-imposed suffering is the clearest hell. Our minds are the real tyrants-and they have mercy on us when they give us the illusion that we are actually in control. This theory of his took control of his reason, and made him suffer. His unconscious though- that is why this book is a masterpiece- was completely in control all along. He knew deep down from the start that it was morally wrong- not because it was what he had been taught- but that it was morally wrong against his being, humanity in general. It was a crime against human nature! That is why he suffered so! His existence could not stomach it! My, what a lesson to mind our unconscious and not ignore it! Reminds me of the exact things Freud warned us about... In the end, his true self did repent, while his mind was still the ruler. Such a contrast, such duality.

The Brothers Karamazov by Dostoevsky

"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 until he saw, but when he did see he said, 'My Lord and my God!' Was it the miracle that forced him to believe? Most likely not, but he believed solely because he desired to believe and possibly he fully believed in his secret heart even when he said, 'I do not believe till I see."

So what he is saying is that he willed himself to believe and therefore believed- as if it was a mere illusion. So then, miracles do not exist?

"For socialism is not merely the labour question, it is before all things the atheistic question, the question of the form taken by atheism today, the question of the Tower of Babel built without God, not to mount to Heaven from earth but to set up Heaven on earth."

Marvelous. To completely get rid of the need for God. A sort of utopia on earth- that is why it is atheistic! If one does not need a higher Being, then one focuses on earth and tries to make it a paradise instead of focusing on the afterlife.

"And if you love you are of God."

"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 the immorality of the soul. If you attain to perfect self-forgetfulness in the love of your neighbor, then you will believe without doubt, and no doubt could possibly enter your soul. This has been tried. This is certain."

Another breakthrough in spiritual thought, similar to Tolstoy's The Coffeehouse of Surat. As one exercises love, one gets closer to God. Exercising this love within us is what makes us be closer to Him, for it is the only part of Himself in us, for He is love.

"(...) and yet I am incapable of living in the same room with anyone for 2 days together, as I know by experience. As soon as one is near me, his personality disturbs my self-complacency and restricts my freedom. In 24 hours I begin to hate the best of men: one because he's too long over his dinner; another because he has a cold and keeps blowing his nose. I become hostile to people the moment they come close to me. But it has always happened that the more i detest man individually the more ardent one becomes my love for humanity."

For one wants to move from the specific to the general. It is easier to deal with the concept of humanity than having an individual near you. I can relate to this more that I wish. Unfortunately.

"He got up, and throwing up his hands, disclaimed, ' Blessed be the womb that bore thee, and the paps that gave thee suck- the paps especially."

Haha this exclamation was quite funny when I read it. Such a funny man Dostoevsky is!

"

"That's right, isn't it, Von Sohn? Here's Von Sohn. How are you, Von Sohn?"

"Do you mean me?" muttered Maximov puzzled.

"Of course i mean you," cried Fyodor Pavlovich. "Who else? The Father Superior could not be Von Sohn."

"But I am not Von Sohn either. I am Maximov."

"No, you are Von Sohn..."

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The story shows the most reckless creatures can have honest and compassionate hearts. How once can find himself in something new despite the horrible conditions/situations he is in. Perhaps, those brothers were the most honest and close to God than anyone else. Even if Alyosha was perfect, in their own ways so were the other 2, in their insecure way, just like him. Each one was good in their own way. And yes, Dostoevsky did prove that there's a God, for only God could've regenerated the brothers' hearts like that.- For what within our pathetic selves can regenerate, let alone produce anything good? Situations in life can impel us to do extraordinary things for one another, things one would've never imagined, and would not have done under normal circumstances. That is the power of God, right there.

I love the way Dostoevsky portrays his characters, how pathetic they are- and yet one can feel this immense pity and sympathy coming from him. It's absolutely remarkable. Only he can do such a thing, and maybe Gogol. :)

Devils by Dostoevsky

"
"(...)A leaf is good. Everything is good."

"Everything?"

"Everything. Man is unhappy because he doesn't know he's happy; that's the only reason. That's all! He who knows becomes happy at once, that very moment..."

"But what about a person who's starving to death or who abuses and violates a little girl- is that good?"

"Yes it is. And if someone blows his brains out for that child, that's good, too; and if he doesn't blow his brains out, that's also good. If they knew it was good, it'd be good, but as long as they don't know it's good, it isn't good. That's my entire idea, that whole thing' there isn't anymore!"

...

"They're bad,' he began suddenly,'because they don't know they're good. When they find out, they won't rape little girls. They m,ust find otu taht they are good, and then they'll all become good at once, to the very last one."

...

"I pray to everything. Do you see that spider crawling along the wall? I look at it and feel grateful it's crawling."

"I bet that by the time I come again, you'll even be believing in God."

"Why?"

"If you found out you believed in God, then you'll believe; but since you don't believe in God, you still don't believe." Nikolai V said with a laugh.

"That's not right," Kirolov said, "you've twisted my idea. A worldly witticism."

This was very amusing. What faith in humanity Kirolov must've had! If we are so good, then why is it so hard for us to be so? Why is it easier to be bad?

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S's character was interesting, he seemed to live on the intensity that evil brings and lavish on the corrupted feelings (as in disgrace), for instance him sleeping with women and having no problem admitting it. The ironic thing was, he was viewed as a gentleman, and even was, except that his mindset was of the vilest human...What a contrast! How looks and behaviors can deceive! How a gentleman could have a mind of a psychopath. Extremely interesting.

The character in his pure evil is extremely attractive, since he feels no remorse whatsoever- and that is very rare in a human because he ceases to be a human and turns into a beast. A beast inside a human...

There were a few scenes that were hilarious, which showed the true character of S. For instance, how he took this man by the nose- as if he just snapped and could not control himself. A gentleman's behavior can only last for so long when an animal is raging inside...

The Idiot by Dostoevsky *

"The picture depicted Christ, who has just been taken from the cross. I believe that the painters are usually in the habit of depicting Christ, whether on the cross or taken from the cross, as still retaining a shade of extraordinary beauty on his face: that beauty they strive to preserve even in his moments of greatest agony. In Rogoshin's picture there was no trace of beauty. It was a faithful representation of the dead body of a man who has undergone unbearable torments before the crusifixion, been wounded, tortured, beaten by the guards, bean by the people, when he carried the cross and fell under its weight, and, at last, has only just been taken from the cross- that is, still retaining a great deal of warmth and life; rigor mortis has not yet set in, so that there is still a look of suffering on the face of the dead man, as though he were still feeling it (that has been well caught by the artist); on the other hand, the face has not been spared in the least; it is nature itself, and, indeed, any many's corpse could look like that after such suffering. I know that the Christian Church laid it down in the first few centuries of its existence that Christ really did suffer and that the Passion was not symbolical. His body was therefore fully and entirely subject to the laws of nature. In the picture the face is terribly smashed with blows, swollen, covered with terrible, swollen, and blood-stained bruises bruises, the eyes open and squinting; the large, open whites of the eyes have a sort of dead and glassy glint. But, strange to say, as one looks at the dead and glassy glint. But, strange to say, as one looks at the dead body of this tortured man, one cannot help asking oneself the peculiar and interesting question: if such a corpse (and it must have been just like that) was seen by all His disciples, by His future chief apostles, by the women that followed Him and stood by the cross, by all who believed in Him and worshiped Him, then how could they possibly have believed, as they looked at the corpse, that that martyr would rise again? Here one cannot help being struck by the idea that if death is so horrible and if the laws of nature are so powerful, then how can they be overcome? How can they be overcome when even He did not conquer them. He who overcame nature during His lifetime and whom nature obey, who said Talitha cumi! and the damsel arose, who cried Lazarus come forth! and the dead man came forth? Looking at that picture, you get the impression of nature as some enormous, implacable, and dumb beast, or, to put it more correctly, much more correctly, though it may seem strange, as some huge engine of the latest design, which has senselessly seized, cut to pieces, and swallowed up- impassively and unfeelingly- a great and priceless Being, a Being worth the whole of nature and all its laws, worth the entire earth, (which was perhaps created solely for the coming of that Being! The picture seems to give expression to the idea of a dark, insolent, and senselessly eternal power, to which everything is subordinated, and this idea is suggested to you unconsciously. The people surrounded the dead man, none of whom is shown in the picture, must have been overwhelmed by a feeling of terrible anguish and dismay on that evening which had shattered all their hopes and almost all their beliefs at one fell blow. They must have parted in a state of most dreadful terror, though each of them carried away within him a mighty thought which could be never wrested from him. And if , on the eve, of the crusifixion, the Master could have seen what He would loo, like when taken from the cross, would He have mounted the cross and died as He did? This question took, you can't help asking yourself as you look at the picture."

I have never given this any thought, always considering the paintings of Jesus Christ as a guess of what He might have looked like. but in all I've seen, It's true they are not portraying the truth. Basically denying most of His humanity. very interesting. He would've been battered! Anyway, He didn't "overcome" the laws of nature because He didn't want to. It was his choice.
But also, that's interesting to think that nature (and I'm thinking of Nature as a creature) was created of the sole purpose of killing Jesus Christ. To show humanity who Christ is. At first I thought of this as, a fraud. Honestly. But further thinking led me to actually believe differently. Nature was created to show humanity, for us to understand, how much Christ loved us. And as Dostoevsky mentions, if He would've seen Himself on the cross...of course He did! He already knew, He is God Himself- He knew foresaw everything- and yet He still did it. Seeing the future only added to the misery.
Also, Jesus' worshipers at the time- Imagine how they would've felt! What loss and disappointment. Even the disciples were slow to believe. Very, very interesting.

The Adolescent by Dostoevsky

"Silence is always beautiful, and a silent person is always more beautiful than the one who talks."

The magic of contrast!

"In my opinion, man is created with a physical inability to love his neighbor. There's some mistake in words here, from the very beginning, and 'love for mankind' should be understood as just for mankind which you yourself have created in your soul (in other words, you've created your own self and the love for yourself) and which therefore will never exist in reality."

Haha! So there is no hope for mankind! If love cannot safe us, what can? Our love for yourselves and others is a mere illusion and it doesn't exist- it is more of a concept that something that could be practiced. Interesting thought.

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This book was my first Russian classic! And what an introduction into the field! It changed my life, and my view on literature in general. It revealed to me that stories have so many layers that are unseen by us...but work out together in the end to produce a marvelous effect. Just like this novel. This one is not his best book, but glad I picked it up one day in the library, not knowing that I would be blown away- and not be the same ever again.

The Diary of Writer by Dosteovsky

"It is curious how the most complete conceptions are being quite imperceptibly inoculated into the child who, being still incapable of connecting two thoughts, sometimes grasp the deepest phenomena of life. A learned German once stated that any child, upon completing the first three years of his life, has acquired a full third of ideas and knowledge with which, as an elder, he will be laid in his grave."

That is very interesting. It means that childhood is as important as any important period of discoveries in our lives. How much a child perceives and understands! It is something to be pure...they are closest to perfection... closest to nature. As if childhood is the transition between the realms we came from to this earthly life...

"More gifted and segregated children are always more reserved, and if they are joyous, it is invariably with a knack at leadership and bossing."

Those type of people seem very aggressive when they get older...Sometimes, a good chunk of the population seems that way.

"...since what is hypocrisy? - It is a ransom which vice is compelled to pay to virtue- which is an extremely comforting thought to him who wishes to remain vicious in practice but at the same time not to sever, in his soul, at least, with virtue. Oh, vice is very fond of paying ransom to virtue, and this is good; temporarily he should be satisfied with even that much- isn't this so?"

It is a line in between virtue and vice... Vice knows it is doing something wrong, but yet wants to live in the comfort of its continuation. It is good to have this "prick of the conscience" even up to this point. When one knows he is a hypocrite, there is still hope! But once the vice stops "paying ransom to virtue" and goes loose, the conscience will be buried underground.

"Indeed, we are all good fellows- except the bad ones of course."

:)

"Look attentively, and you will see that, in our case, first comes faith in an idea, in an ideal, while earthly goods come after."

Yes, first is the spiritual, the earthly goods are only a mere extra.

"The lad of our days, about whom so many controversial things are said, often adores a most naive paradox, sacrificing for it everything- the world, his fate, his very life; but his is due to only the fact that he regards his paradox as the truth. Here we are confronted with the lack of enlightenment. When light appears, different viewpoints will arise of their own accord; paradoxes will vanish, but the purity of heart, the thirst for sacrifice and exploit, which gleam in him so brightly, will not fade. And this is what really counts."

And it really is naive, to give up everything for faith. But is that not what humanity is made for? To believe in the unseen? In an ideal? Whether God or a philosophy...man is capable of an astounding determination when it comes to faith. And in the end, when all is said and done, this faith is what continues to glow.

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It is so good to know Dostoevsky's thoughts! And I still haven't finished it, the library will only let me borrow it for so long...
There are such interesting stories in there though, such a treat!

Winter Notes on Summer Impressions by Dostoevsky

"It is a kind of biblical scene, something about Babylon, a kind of prophecy from the Apocalypse fulfilled before your very eyes. You feel that it would require a great deal of eternal spiritual resistance and denial not to succumb, not to surrender to the impression, not to bow down to to fact, and not to idolize Baal, that is, not to accept what is your ideal..."

I love the way he connect biblical scenes to society. A kind of god is the society for many people- and has been for so many centuries. Everyone bows down to mainstream society, and who does not is an "outcast". And yet, "Babylon" is very attractive, eye-catching... it is a sort of magnet to the needy and empty. Wonderful connection, such a treat! Just like the Great Inquisition.

"Fact weights heavily; the masses grow numb and wonder about like zombies of if skepticism arises, dismally and with a curse they seek salvation in something like Mormonism."

I thought that was rather funny, especially coming from Dostoevsky.

"And they themselves know this and meanwhile avenge themselves against society as some kind of underground Mormons, Shakers, wanderers... We are surprised at the stupidity of going over the Shakers and becoming wanderers; we do not even suspect there is a secession from our social formulas; a stubborn, unconscious secession; an instinctive secession, no matter what the cost, for the sake of salvation; a secession from us made with disgust and horror. These millions of people, abandoned and driven away from the human feast, shoving and crushing each other in the underground darkness into which they have been thrown by their older brothers, gropingly knock at any gate whatsoever and seek entrance so they won't suffocate in the dark cellar. It is a final, desperate attempt to form their own group, their own crowd, and to separate themselves from everything, even from the human image, if only to be something of their own, if only to avoid being with us..."

Maybe this is an allusion to the biblical story of Joseph. That society, the "older brothers" throw out the ones who are different. But the ones thrown out, do the exact opposite of Joseph, they are scared and desperate to get out. So they seek something that looks like salvation, even though it may not be. They do not seek God, but just a way out of their "dark cellar"- anything that separates them from "us". It also reminds me of the "gnashing of teeth" prediction of the Judgment Day. How the ones thrown out of the wedding feast (human feast)bang on the entrance to be let in. I wonder, if they had not been rejected in the first place, would they still be so desperate to "separate...from us"? Would their conviction still be the same, or would they go on and drink the wine, enjoy the feast? Is it just an act of desperation, this seeking of salvation?

"Convinced to the point of stupefaction, these professors of religion have their own form of amusement missionary work. They go all over the earth, penetrate into the depths of Africa, to convert a single savage and forget about the millions of savages in London who have nothing to pay them."

Oh, the irony! Goodness. And even today, the same thing is happening. Take care of the "log in your own eye" first.

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This was a very entertaining book. Except his diary, this is the closest book that I would think his feelings are clearly to be seen. Very interesting man! I would love to travel to the exact places he went to, just for the sake of possibly seeing the same things he had seen. I wonder if my "impressions" would resemble his. Of course, that is a little obsessive...

Humiliated and Insulted by Dostoevsky

I must admit that the translation wasn't the best, it took me about a hundred pages to get used to the book; too modern. And the translator even said, that his translation could be compared to today's best sellers! What a shame, and even an insult. As if it could even compare to today's best sellers!

About the story: Very beautiful, although not quite as complex as his other works. I actually predicted the "riddle" so to speak, before the ending. Overall though, very beautiful. I could see where Dostoevsky's ideas came from, for his later books. Like the Adolescent, for isntance. It was about people who bury their real wishes, and react quite the opposite from what they really want; "out of spite". Which is also an idea from Notes form Underground. How they would suffer, just to "rub salt on the wounds" to make it worse. so that their suffering would increase. Like the father, Nelly, and sometimes Natasha. And even though Vanya was the one who was insulted themost, he still loved no matter what, even though it mean to be indifferent to his happiness. Beautiful message, although not so easily achieved in real life.

Netochka Nezvanova by Dostoevsky

"My soul failed to recognize yours although it found a new light beside its beautiful sister soul."

"My whole soul is full of you."

"Teach me how to wrench my life in two, how to tear my heart out of my breast, how to live without it."

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I cannot believe this was Dostoevsky's first attempt at writing a novel. Such complexity! My goodness, and how many topics it covers! This concept, how the little girl idolized her father- even began believing his ridiculous dreams- living in a fantasy. This touches the importance of the relationship between a father and daughter- and what a tremendous effect it can have on a young girl's thought process.

And again,as in the future novels as well, Dostoevsky's "specialty", in my opinion, is seen in this novel; the delusion of man. How Netochka's (the little girl) father disillusioned himself so efficiently, that at one point in the story, he actually made himself believe that when the mother died, he would have the chance to success. And he made the little girl believe it also. This sort of fantasy is beautifully described by this Genius, who sympathizes with the insanity in man and even tries to justify them through their own justification...it's incredible. And one of the main points of this story, is that this sort of fantasy can easily affect the innocent in heart, for in reality, they were both very naive and innocent in essence, to push out reality and create their own chaste world...

And also, how interestingly he added another problem- Alexandra, such a great example of a lot of women of that time, and throughout history in general, who forsake their own happiness that bloomed out of love,to duty. It is as if their soul is ripped away with them, for it is an unjust and almost inhuman expectation. And yet, it was very much expected. Of course, the level of love we are talking about here is very dependent on pleasure- in most cases. Sometimes, it can be the mere friendship that brings much happiness to the young maiden who is condemned to a despicable marriage.

The Village of Stepanchikovo by Dostoevsky

"The fewer of life's blessings that were left to her, the more she entertained and comforted herself in her fanciful imagination. The more irrevocably her last hopes waned and finally perished altogether, the more her extravagant and insubstantial dreams took hold of her. Unimaginable wealth, unfading beauty, elegant suitors, rich, renowned, of pricely and distinguished stock, chaste and spotless at heart, expiring at her feet with infinite love, and, finally, the one- The one, the paragon of beauty, the seat of all the virtues, passionate and loving; an artist, a poet, a general's son in turn or all at once- all this made up not only the substance of her dreams, but even her of her waking hours. Her mind was already beginning to exhibit symptoms of deterioration as a result of indulging in this uninterrupted succession of opiate fantasies..."

"The novels inflamed her imagination even more, and she usually abandoned them on the second page. She could not sustain the strain of reading further- the first few lines would be enough to carry her into dreams, the merest suggestion of love, sometimes simply the description of a place or of a room or somebody's dress."

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The character is completely inside her own world, and is even taking wisps from reality to feed to her imagination. Imagine to live a life like that! It must be some sort of happiness... a sort of delusion. The imagination is even better than a drug, for it never dies, it always finds a way to wriggle itself out of reality and fly back to its own world. I really sympathize with this character, for so many try to block themselves out of this reality, and she's actually to be admired, since she succeeded completely.

In this entire book, I was so mad at Foma... I kept asking why no one threw him out! They kept submitting to his preposterous demands, as if they weren't ridiculous at all. I would have smacked him a couple of times throughout the story, and yet, everyone kept apologizing for their supposed "temper". Especially the father of the house, who was such a kind soul! Goodness, such men are so rare, and yet, very easily manipulated. Which is what Foma took full control of. One just needs to find such a kind fool in order to take advantage of him.

And so, when all was said and done, after life got back to normal, and Foma died. Who won in the end? Did Foma, with all his scheming, his arrogance and merciless testing, did he win in the end? He died knowing that he did rule those unfortunate people, he died like a king. Or did kindness and patience win? Did the people of the house, their apologies, their attempts to silence their tempers, did they win?

And if they had thrown him out from the beginning, would they have had the same satisfaction in the end? Because for it to have been a happy ending, either Foma had been thrown out and peace would have been restored sooner, or (as in this case) through pleasing Foma, peace was also achieved. Wouldn't their pride (if Foma would have been thrown out) have achieved a different happy ending? Their satisfaction at the end of the story, would not have appeared to intense, for they would have had no obstacles to their happiness. This obstacle, Foma, gave them the contrast in life, which showed them what to be thankful for.

Of course, these people who bring "contrast" can be tolerated easier in theory. :)