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“What is love? For the rabble love is a kind of variety, a transient vulgarity; the rabble's conception of love is best found in their obscene ditties, in prostitution and in the foul idioms they use when they are halfway sober, such as "shoving the donkey's foreleg in mud," or "putting dust on the head." My love for her, however, was of a totally different kind. I knew her from ancient times—strange slanted eyes, a narrow, half-open mouth, a subdued quiet voice. She was the embodiment of all my distant, painful memories among which I sought what I was deprived of, what belonged to me but somehow I was denied. Was I deprived forever?”
The Blind Owl • Sadegh Hedayat“Of what is great one must either be silent or speak with greatness.”
The Will to Power • Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche“Art thou angry with him whose arm-pits stink? art thou angry with him whose mouth smells foul? What good will this anger do thee?”
Book V • Marcus Aurelius“Is it really not possible to touch the gaming table without being instantly infected by superstition?”
The Gambler • Fyodor Dostoevski““In the search for truth man makes two steps forward and one step back. Suffering, mistakes, and weariness of life thrust them back, but the thirst for truth and stubborn will drive them on and on.””
Seagull • Anton Chekhov
