“it's much better to do good in a way that no one knows anything about it.”

Leo Tolstoy

“Every heart has its own skeletons.”

Leo Tolstoy

“We love people not so much for the good they've done us, as for the good we've done them.”

Leo Tolstoy

“As though I had been going steadily downhill, imagining that I was going uphill. So it was in fact. In public opinion I was going uphill, and steadily as I got up it, life was ebbing away from me....And now the work's done, there's only death.”

Leo Tolstoy

“There was no solution, but that universal solution which life gives to all questions, even the most complex and insoluble. That answer is: one must live in the needs of the day—that is, forget oneself. To forget himself in sleep was impossible now, at least till nighttime; he could not go back now to the music sung by the decanter-women; so he must forget himself in the dream of daily life.”

Leo Tolstoy

“Art is not a handicraft; it is the transmission of feeling the artist has experienced.

Leo Tolstoy

“What a strange illusion it is to suppose that beauty is goodness.

Leo Tolstoy

“... for nightinggales - we know - can’t live on fairytales.”

Leo Tolstoy

“Pretence about anything sometimes deceives the wisest and shrewdest man, but, however cunningly it is hidden, a child of the meanest capacity feels it and is repelled by it.”

Leo Tolstoy

“I think that when you remember, remember, remember everything like that, you could go on until you remember what was there before you were in the world. ”

Leo Tolstoy

“The simplest and shortest ethical precept is to be served as little as possible . . . and to serve others as much as possible.”

Leo Tolstoy

“There was no solution, save that universal solution which life gives to all questions, even the most complex and insolvable: One must live in the needs of the day--that is, forget oneself.”

Leo Tolstoy

“Respect was invented to cover the empty place where love should be.”

Leo Tolstoy

“And so liberalism had become a habit of Stepan Arkadyevitch's, and he liked his newspaper, as he did his cigar after dinner, for the slight fog it diffused in his brain.”

Leo Tolstoy

“But it seems to me that a man cannot and ought not to say that he loves, he said. Why not? I asked. Because it will always be a lie. As though it were a strange sort of discovery that someone is in love! Just as if, as soon as he said that, something went snap-bang - he loves. Just as if, when he utters that word, something extraordinary is bound to happen, with signs and portents, and all the cannons firing at once. It seems to me, he went on, that people who solemnly utter those words, 'I love you,' either deceive themselves, or what's still worse, deceive others.”

Leo Tolstoy


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