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!
Evidently it’s true that the entire second half of a man’s life is usually composed solely of the habits accumulated during the first half.
I MUST make one confession” Ivan began. “I could never understand how one can love one’s neighbours.
But how much love, oh, Lord, how much love I experienced at times in those dreams of mine, in those “escapes into everything beautiful and sublime.” Even though it was fantastic love, even though it was never directed at anything human, there was still so much love that afterward, in reality, I no longer felt any impulse to direct it: that would have been an unnecessary luxury.
But wait, wait,” Ivan was laughing, “don’t get so excited. A fantasy, you say? Let it be. Of course it’s a fantasy. But still, let me ask: do you really think that this whole Catholic movement of the past few centuries is really nothing but the lust for power only for the sake of filthy lucre?
Merciful Heavens! but what do I care for the laws of nature and arithmetic, when, for some reason I dislike those laws and the fact that twice two makes four? Of course I cannot break through the wall by battering my head against it if I really have not the strength to knock it down, but I am not going to be reconciled to it simply because it is a stone wall and I have not the strength.
Everyone thinks of himself, and he lives most gaily who knows best how to deceive himself.
But if you have a wart on the forehead, or on the nose, you always fancy that no one has anything else to do in the world other than stare at your wart, make fun of it, and despise you for it, even though you have discovered America.
Well, let them talk nonsense: perhaps then they’ll talk sense later.
Tyranny is a habit which may be developed until at last it becomes a disease. I declare that the noblest nature can become so hardened and bestial that nothing distinguishes it from that of a wild animal. Blood and power intoxicate; they help to develop callousness and debauchery.
No, life is only given to me once and I shall never have it again; I don’t want to wait for ‘the happiness of all.’ I want to live myself, or else better not live at all.
Es al separarse cuando se siente y se comprende la fuerza con que se ama.
Love the animals: God has given them the rudiments of thought and joy untroubled. Do not trouble it, don’t harass them, don’t deprive them of their happiness, don’t work against God’s intent. Man, do not pride yourself on superiority to the animals; they are without sin, and you, with your greatness, defile the earth by your appearance on it, and leave the traces of your foulness after you – alas, it is true of almost every one of us!
Strange as it seems, there are men who, though far from kind, yet have the gift of making themselves popular. They do not despise those under their authority; that, I think, is the cause of their success. They do not lord it over others; they have no sense of caste; they have the common touch although they are high-born, and the people immediately sense it.
Which of the two is more capable of upholding and serving a great idea – the isolated rich man or one who is liberated from the tyranny of things and habits? The monk is reproached for his isolation: “You isolate yourself in order to save your soul behind monastery walls, but you forget the brotherly ministry to mankind.
You can pass through the world doing wrong, but there is no turning back.
The story may have been exaggerated, yet it must have been something like the truth.
I am sorry I can say nothing more consoling to you, for love in action is a harsh and dreadful thing compared with love in dreams.
Lying in one’s own way is almost better than telling the truth in someone else’s way; in the first case you’re a man, and in the second – no better than a bird!
This shallow, mindless nature, which constantly thirsted to subordinate itself to another person’s will, had a need to see orders through – oh, for no other reason, of course, than for the sake of a ‘common’ or ‘great’ cause. But even this didn’t matter, because petty fanatics like Erkel are utterly incapable of understanding service to an idea other than by conflating it with the very individual who, as they understand it, gives expression to this idea.