Summary

Portrait of Fyodor Dostoevsky Fyodor Dostoevsky The Brothers Karamazov — Part IV, Book XI, Chapter 9 (1880)

The anecdote is so characteristic that I couldn't have taken it from anywhere. I thought I'd forgotten it... but I've unconsciously recalled it- I recalled it myself- it was not you telling it! Thousands of things are unconsciously remembered like that even when people are being taken to execution... it's come back to me in a dream. You are that dream! You are a dream, not a living creature!"
"From the vehemence with which you deny my existence," laughed the gentleman, "I am convinced that you believe in me."
"Not in the slightest! I haven't a hundredth part of a grain of faith in you!"
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Fyodor Dostoevsky Fyodor Dostoevsky The Brothers Karamazov — Part IV, Book XI, Chapter 9 (1880)

I suffer, but still, I don't live. I am x in an indeterminate equation. I am a sort of phantom in life who has lost all beginning and end, and who has even forgotten his own name. You are laughing- no, you are not laughing, you are angry again. You are for ever angry, all you care about is intelligence, but I repeat again that I would give away all this superstellar life, all the ranks and honours, simply to be transformed into the soul of a merchant's wife weighing eighteen stone and set candles at God's shrine."
"Then even you don't believe in God?" said Ivan, with a smile of hatred.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Fyodor Dostoevsky Fyodor Dostoevsky The Brothers Karamazov — Part IV, Book XI, Chapter 9 (1880)

I lead you to belief and disbelief by turns, and I have my motive in it. It's the new method. As soon as you disbelieve in me completely, you'll begin assuring me to my face that I am not a dream but a reality. I know you. Then I shall have attained my object, which is an honourable one. I shall sow in you only a tiny grain of faith and it will grow into an oak-tree- and such an oak-tree that, sitting on it, you will long to enter the ranks of 'the hermits in the wilderness and the saintly women,' for that is what you are secretly longing for.
Source: Wikisource

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