9
" Vezi, dragul meu, în secolul al optsprezecelea, un bătrân învechit în rele [Voltaire] a declarat că dacă Dumnezeu n-ar exista, ar trebui inventat, s'il n'existait pas Dieu, il faudrait l'inventer. Și într-adevăr, omul este acela care l-a născocit pe Dumnezeu. Surprinzător, aș zice chiar miraculos, nu este însă faptul că Dumnezeu există, ci miracolul constă tocmai în aceea că ideea necesității unui dumnezeu - idee atât de sfântă, de emoționantă și plină de înțelepciune și care nu poate decât să-i facă cinste omului, s-a putut înfiripa în căpățâna unei fiare sălbatice și crude ca el. "
― Fyodor Dostoevsky , الإخوة كارامازوف #1
11
" And what do I care if I spend twenty years in the mines, breaking ore with a hammer? I am not a bit afraid of that -- it's something else I am afraid of now: that that new man may leave me. Even there, in the mines, underground, I may find a human heart in another convict and murderer by my side, and I may make friends with him, for even there one may live and love and suffer. One may thaw and revive a frozen heart in that convict, one may wait upon him for years, and at last bring up from the dark depths a lofty soul, a feeling, suffering creature; one may bring forth an angel, create a hero! There are so many of them, hundreds of them, and we are all to blame for them. Why was it I dreamed of that 'babe' at such a moment? 'Why is the babe so poor?' That was a sign to me at that moment. It's for the babe I'm going. Because we are all responsible for all. For all the 'babes,' for there are big children as well as little children All are 'babes.' I go for all, because someone must go for all. I didn't kill father, but I've got to go. I accept it. It's all come to me here, here, within these peeling walls. There are numbers of them there, hundreds of them underground, with hammers in their hands. Oh, yes, we shall be in chains and there will be no freedom, but then, in our great sorrow, we shall rise again to joy, without which man cannot live nor God exist, for God gives joy: it's His privilege -- a grand one. Ah, man should be dissolved in prayer! What should I be underground there without God? Rakitin's laughing! If they drive God from the earth, we shall shelter Him underground. One cannot exist in prison without God; it's even more impossible than out of prison. And then we men underground will sing from the bowels of the earth a glorious hymn to God, with Whom is joy. Hail to God and His joy! I love Him! "
― Fyodor Dostoevsky , الإخوة كارامازوف #1