I wanted to fathom her secrets; I wanted her to come to me and say: "I love you," and if not that, if that was senseless insanity, then...well, what was there to care about? Did I know what I wanted? I was like one demented: all I wanted was to be near her, in the halo of her glory, in her radiance, always, for ever, all my life. I knew nothing more!
Fyodor DostoevskyAt first, art imitates life. Then life will imitate art.Then life will find its very existence from the arts.
Fyodor DostoevskyA widow, the mother of a family, and from her heart she produces chords to which my whole being responds.
Fyodor Dostoevsky