Character: Rodion Raskolnikov

- I bowed, I entire suffering of the human bowed.
- What did you say? Yes because I'm dishonest, I'm a sinner! The great sinner!
- Not because of wickedness and sin I said that of you. But for your Great suffering. You're a great sinner, then it is so. Live in this dirt, which is so hated. Know itself, but is only eyes to reveal that to anyone you don't help. No one doesn't save. Tell you finally, how you fit? After all, fairer a thousand times as fair and reasonable was right to head into the water over and end!

- So you really pray to God, Sonya?
- What would I do without God once was?
- You God for this making?
- Silent!

It was clear that it was necessary not to grieve, not to suffer passively, some discussion about what the issues are insoluble, and bound to do something right now, and soon. In whatever was necessary to decide on something, or...

Not because of your dishonour and your sin I said that of you, but because of your great compassion.

These last words, after all the above said and so similar to renunciation, was too unexpected. Raskolnikov trembled as though pierced.
- So... who... killed?.. he asked, unable to stand, panting voice. Porfiry Petrovitch stepped back on the chair, just so so sudden and he was amazed at the question.
- Like who killed?.. - he talked, just not believing my ears, Yes you did, Rodion Romanovitch! You who killed me,? he added almost in a whisper, absolutely convinced voice.

In short, I deduce that all, not that great, but a little off track outgoing people, that is barely even able to say something new, should, by its very nature, to be criminals, more or less, of course.

Power needed: without power nothing will; but the power necessary to produce force is the same, this is what they do not know.

And so always these Schiller lovely shower happens: until the last moment clothe man in Paulinia feathers, until the last moment for good and not for evil hope; and though I foresee the turnover of the coin, but never give up yourself in advance of the real word can't pronounce it; they cringe from the thoughts of one; both hands wave away from the truth, until then, until the painted man their own nose will not stick.

... I talk too much. Because doing nothing that chatter. Perhaps, however, and so: I chatter because I do nothing.

The fear of aesthetics is the first sign of weakness.

The more cunning a person is, the less he suspects that his simple knock. The most cunning man on the elementary need to knock down.

- Do you like street singing? - Raskolnikov suddenly turned to one no longer young, of a passerby, who became close to him at hurdy-gurdy and had a kind of flaneur. He wildly looked and was surprised. I love, ' continued Raskolnikov, but with a look like do not about street singing talking, I love singing with the hurdy-gurdy in a cool, dark and damp autumn evening, certainly in the wet, when all the passers-by pale green and sick persons; or better still when wet snow is falling, quite directly, without the wind, you know? but through it lights with gas Shine...
- Don't know-s... Sorry... ' muttered the stranger, frightened by the question and Raskolnikov's strange manner, and crossed to the other side of the street.

Even almost funny he was, and at the same time was squeezing his chest painfully. At some deep down somewhere just visible under his feet, seemed to him now all the old past and the old thoughts and old problem and the old themes, and former impressions, and this whole panorama, and he and all and all... he Seemed to be flying upwards, and everything were vanishing from his sight.

... he never has to this day never experienced such strange sensations. And that is just painful - it was more a feeling than a consciousness than the concept; a direct sense of excruciating sensation of all the still life experienced their sensations.