Pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart. The really great men must, I think, have great sadness on earth.
Fyodor DostoevskyRead
Love in action is a harsh and dreadful thing compared with love in dreams.
Interpretation
Real love requires effort and sacrifice, contrasting with the idealized version of love that exists in our dreams.
Dostoevsky highlights the stark difference between the romanticized notion of love and its true form, which often involves struggle and pain. While love in our dreams is idyllic and free from conflict, love in reality demands commitment, hard work, and resilience, often exposing us to harsh truths and difficult situations.
In practice
During a wedding speech, to emphasize the challenges of marriage.
Pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart. The really great men must, I think, have great sadness on earth.
What if, when this fog scatters and flies upward, the whole rotten, slimey city goes with it, rises with the fog and vanishes like smoke.
Love the animals: God has given them the rudiments of thought and joy untroubled.
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. And you will come at last to love the whole world with an all-embracing love.
But do you understand, I cry to him, do you understand that if you have the guillotine in the forefront, and with such glee, it's for the sole reason that cutting heads off is the easiest thing, and having an idea is difficult!
...to return to their 'native soil,' as they say, to the bosom, so to speak, of their mother earth, like frightened children, yearning to fall asleep on the withered bosom of their decrepit mother, and to sleep there for ever, only to escape the horrors that terrify them.
Oh, to love what is lovely, and will not last!_x000D_ What a task_x000D_ to ask_x000D_ of anything, or anyone,_x000D_ yet it is ours,_x000D_ and not by the century or the year, but by the hours.
I am the lover's gift; I am the wedding wreath; I am the memory of a moment of happiness; I am the last gift of the living to the dead; I am a part of joy and a part of sorrow.
In one kiss, you'll know all I haven't said.
They were stars on this stage, each playing to an audience of two: the passion of their pretense created the actuality. Here, finally, was the quintessence of self-expression-- yet it was probable that for the most part their love expressed Gloria rather than Anthony. He felt often like a scarecly tolerated guest at a party she was giving.
Love is not consolation, it is light.
How sweet it is to learn the Savior's love when nobody else loves us! When friends flee, what a blessed thing it is to see that the Savior does not forsake us but still keeps us and holds us fast and clings to us and will not let us go!
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