'Well, sir', she said, 'just as a mother rejoices when she notices her baby smile for the firt time, so does God rejoice every time he beholds from on high a sinner kneeling before him, praying with all his heart.' This was what a simple peasant woman told me, in practically those words —a thought so profound, so subtle, so truely religious, comprehending the whole essence of Christianity, that is, the whole concept of God as our Father and our God rejiicing in man, like a father rejoicing in his child —the fundamental idea of Christ!
Fyodor Dostoevsky. The idiot. (via ponchooo)
[W]e are all divorced from life, we are all cripples, every one of us, more or less. We are so divorced from it that we feel at once a sort of loathing for real life, and so cannot bear to be reminded of it. Why, we have come almost to looking upon real life as an effort, almost as hard work, and we are all privately agreed that it is better in books. And why do we fuss and fume sometimes? Why are we perverse and ask for something else? We don’t know what ourselves. It would be the worse for us if our petulant prayers were answered. Come, try, give any one of us, for instance, a little more independence, untie our hands, widen the spheres of our activity, relax the control and we … yes, I assure you … we should be begging to be under control again at once.
Notes from the Underground — Dostoevsky (via jonpertwee)