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
And in vain does the dreamer rummage about in his old dreams, raking them over as though they were a heap of cinders, looking into these cinders for some spark, however tiny, to fan it into a flame so as to warm his chilled blood by it and revive in it all that he held so dear before, all that touched his heart, that made his blood course through his veins, that drew tears from his eyes, and that so splendidly deceived him!
Interpretation
What this quote means
The quote reflects on the futility of clinging to old dreams and memories that can no longer revive the passion and warmth of the past.
In this quote, Dostoevsky delves into the human experience of nostalgia and the impact of lost dreams. He portrays the dreamer as someone who futilely sifts through past aspirations, desperately seeking a spark that could reignite the passion of what once was. The metaphor of rummaging through cinders symbolizes the search for meaning and warmth in memories that are ultimately cold and lifeless. Despite the deep emotional connection to these dreams, they serve only as a reminder of what has been lost, illustrating the pain of yearning and the inevitable passage of time.
Themes
DreamsNostalgiaRegretMemoriesLoss
In practice
Example use cases
This quote could be used in a motivational speech about moving forward after setbacks.
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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.
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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!
Fyodor DostoevskyRead
...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.
Fyodor DostoevskyRead
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