The more I detest men individually the more ardent becomes my love for humanity.
More from Fyodor Dostoevsky
It's the great mystery of human life that old grief passes gradually into quiet tender joy.
Permalink to quote #79 What terrible tragedies realism inflicts on people.
Permalink to quote #81 To be in love is not the same as loving. You can be in love with a woman and still hate her.
Permalink to quote #78