Fyodor Dostoyevsky

"The darker the night, the brighter the stars,  The deeper the grief, the closer is God!"
"Is it not possible to eat me without insisting that I sing praises of my devourer?"
"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."
"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."
"Don’t let us forget that the causes of human actions are usually immeasurably more complex and varied than our subsequent explanations of them."
"Drowning men, it is said, cling to wisps of straw."
"You see, gentlemen, reason is an excellent thing, there’s no disputing that, but reason is nothing but reason and satisfies only the rational side of man’s nature, while will is a manifestation of the whole life, that is, of the whole human life including reason and all the impulses. And although our life, in this manifestation of it, is often worthless, yet it is life and not simply extracting square roots."
"Man is a mystery. It needs to be unravelled, and if you spend your whole life unravelling it, don't say that you've wasted time. I am studying that mystery because I want to be a human being."
"Nothing has ever been more insupportable for a man and a human society than freedom.–The Grand Inquisitor"
"What do you think, would not one tiny crime be wiped out by thousands of good deeds?"
"It’s not God that I don’t accept, Alyosha, only I most respectfully return him the ticket."
"And in vain does the dreamer rummage about in his old dreams, raking them over as though they were a heap of cinders, looking into these cinders for some spark, however tiny, to fan it into a flame so as to warm his chilled blood by it and revive in it all that he held so dear before, all that touched his heart, that made his blood course through his veins, that drew tears from his eyes, and that so splendidly deceived him!"