Her face was brilliant and glowing; but this glow was not one of brightness; it suggested the fearful glow of a conflagration in the midst of a dark night.

Art is a means of union among men, joining them together in the same feeling.

Everyone thinks of changing the world, but no one thinks of changing himself.

Pierre looked into the sky, into the depths of the retreating, twinkling stars. "And all this is mine, and all this is in me, and all this is me!" thought Pierre. "And all this they've caught and put in a shed and boarded it up!

Are we not all flung into the world for no other purpose than to hate each other, and so to torture ourselves and one another?

He looked at her as a man might look at a faded flower he had plucked, in which it was difficult for him to trace the beauty that had made him pick and so destroy it

Am I mad, to see what others do not see, or are they mad who are responsible for all that I am seeing?