There is something at the bottom of every new human thought, every thought of genius, or even every earnest thought that springs up in any brain, which can never be communicated to others, even if one were to write volumes about it and were explaining one’s idea for thirty-five years; there’s something left which cannot be induced to emerge from your brain, and remains with you forever; and with it you will die, without communicating to anyone perhaps the most important of your ideas.
“
— Dostoevsky, The Idiot (via kasbadjibilel)
The more I love humanity in general the less I love man in particular. In my dreams, I often make plans for the service of humanity, and perhaps I might actually face crucifixion if it were suddenly necessary. Yet I am incapable of living in the same room with anyone for two days together.
“
— Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov
(via i-wannatravel)
(via i-wannatravel)
Let me add, however, that in every idea of genius or in every new human idea, or, more simply still, in every serious human idea born in anyone’s brain, there is something that cannot possibly be conveyed to others, though you wrote volumes about it and spent thirty-five years in explaining your idea; something will always be left that will obstinately refuse to emerge from your head and that will remain with you for ever and you will die without having conveyed to anyone what is perhaps the most vital point of your idea.
“
— Fyodor Dostoyevsky; The Idiot (via wordpainting)
In the end the number of things he thought of saying all at once nearly suffocated him and he became silent.
“
— C.S. Lewis, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader (via theclivechronicles)
(via penial-aids)
Love is mutually agreed self destruction
And when you look at me like that
I can hear the bomb ticking off
“
