A hundred suspicions don't make a proof.

I am a sick man...I am a spiteful man. I am an unattractive man. I think my liver is diseased. Then again, I don't know a thing about my illness; I'm not even sure what hurts.

One can fall in love and still hate.

Happiness lies not in happiness but only in the attempt to achieve it.

Coming at twenty to his father's house, which was a very sink of filthy debauchery, he, chaste and pure as he was, simply withdrew in silence when to look on was unbearable, but without the slightest sign of contempt or condemnation. His father, who had once been in a dependent position, and so was sensitive and ready to take offense, met him at first with distrust and sullenness.

I walked along Nevsky Avenue.Actually it was more torture, humiliation, and bilious irritation than a stroll.

Life [had] replaced logic.