She put both her hands on his shoulders and gazed at him long, with a deep look of ecstasy and yet searchingly. She scrutinized his face to make up for the time she had not seen him. She compared, as she did at every interview with him, the image her fancy painted of him (incomparably finer than, and impossible in actual existence) with his real self.
Leo TolstoyTo regard Christ as God, and to pray to him, are to my mind the greatest possible sacrilege.
Leo TolstoyAre we not all flung into the world for no other purpose than to hate each other, and so to torture ourselves and one another?
Leo Tolstoy