Dostoyevsky Fyodor Mikhaylovich (Russian: ?????? ?????????? ????????????), sometimes transliterated Dostoevsky, was a Russian novelist, journalist and short story writer whose psychological insight into the human psyche had a profound influence on the novel of the 20th century. At home and at a private school, he was educated. He was sent to St. Petersburg shortly after his mother's death in 1837, where he entered the Army Engineering College. Do... stoyevsky's father died of apoplexy in 1839, but it was rumored that he was killed by his own serfs. Dostoyevsky graduated as a military engineer but resigned to write in 1844. In 1846 he appeared his first novel, Poor Folk. That year he joined a group of utopian socialists. In 1849, he was arrested and sentenced to death, commuted to jail in Siberia. Dostoyevsky spent four years in hard labor and four years as a soldier in Semipalatinsk, a town in what it is today in Kazakhstan. Dostoyevsky returned to St. Petersburg in 1854 as a writer with a religious mission and published three works deriving in different ways from his experiences in Siberia: The House of the Dead, (1860) a fictional account of prison life, The Insulted and Injured, reflecting his experiences in Semipalatinsk. Two years later, he resigned from the army. He served as editor of the monthly newspaper Time between 1861 and 1863, which was later suppressed as a result of an article on the Polish uprising. His wife and brother died in 1864-65 and he was burdened with debts. His gambling addiction made his situation worse. An outsider's psychological study emerged from the turmoil of the 1860s, which marked a major advance in Dostoyevsky's artistic and creative development. Dostoyevsky married Anna Snitkin, his 22-year-old stenographer, in 1867. They traveled abroad and returned in 1871. Dostoyevsky was recognized as one of his great writers in his own country by the time of The Brothers Karamazov (1879-80).READ MORE
We're always thinking of eternity as an idea that cannot be understood, something immense. But why must it be? What if, instead of all this, you suddenly find just a little room there, something like a village bath-house, grimy, and spiders in every corner, and that's all eternity is. Sometimes, you know, I can't help feeling that that's what it is.
Every man has some reminiscences which he would not tell to everyone, but only to his friends. He has others which he would not reveal even to his friends, but only to himself, and that in secret. But finally there are still others which a man is even afraid to tell himself, and every decent man has a considerable number of such things stored away. That is, one can even say that the more decent he is, the greater the number of such things in his mind.