Remembrance of the past kills all present energy and deadens all hope for the future

we people at the bottom feel everything; but it is hard for us to speak out our hearts. our thoughts float about in us. we are ashamed because, although we understand, we are not able...

The illness of a doctor is always worse than the illnesses of his patients.The patients only feel, but the doctor, as well as feeling, has a pretty good idea of the destructive effect of the...

In recalling my childhood I like to picture myself as a beehive to which various simple obscure people brought the honey of their knowledge and thoughts on life, generously enriching my character with their own...

And this was the end of my first friendship with one of that innumerable company of people who are foreigners in their own country, but who are in reality its finest sons….

Those——”—here he flung out a terrible oath—”those people don’t know what their blind hands are sowing. They will know when our power is complete and we begin to mow down their cursed grass. They’ll know...

Politics is something similar to the lower physiological functions, with the unpleasant difference that political functions are unavoidably carried out in public.

This is the way it ought to be!” said the Little Russian, returning. “Because, mark you, mother dear, a new heart is coming into existence, a new heart is growing up in life. All hearts...

Lies are the religion of slaves and masters. Truth is the god of the free man.

All of us are pilgrims on this earth. I have even heard it said that the earth itself is a pilgrim in the heavens.

The good qualities in our soul are most successfully and forcefully awakened by the power of art. Just as science is the intellect of the world, art is its soul.

…the more a human creature has tasted of bitter things the more it hungers after the sweet things of life. And we, wrapped round in rags of our virtues, and regarding others through the mist...

The poor are always rich in children, and in the dirt and ditches of this street there are groups of them from morning to night, hungry, naked and dirty. Children are the living flowers of...

They destroy lives with work. What for? They rob men of their lives. What for, I ask? My master—I lost my life in the textile mill of Nefidov—my master presented one prima donna with a...

In the monotony of everyday existence grief comes as a holiday, and a fire is an entertainment. A scratch embellishes an empty face.

the mother again remarked the simplicity and calmness of their relation to each other. it was hard for her to get used to it. no kissing, no affictionate words passed between them but they behaved...