O LCB

“At the very moment I was insulting her, she was surrendering her soul to God. It impacted me so much that I was left stunned.

Coinciding with the sunset, on a peaceful summer evening, my old [person] passed away... which, of course, does not lack moral significance; and right at that moment, instead of shedding a tear of farewell for her, so to speak, a young and reckless ensign, boldly and shamelessly, bids her farewell from this world, like a good Russian lad, with a string of obscenities... And all of this, all because of a misplaced soup tureen!”
― Dostoevsky, The Idiot

“Razones siempre habrá para quejarse del que lleve la banda presidencial, pero nunca para apoyar iniciativas o tomar ellos mismos el poder. ¿Cómo perder la oportunidad de echarle la culpa a alguien más? Si el pueblo mexicano se alimentara de críticas, no tendría hambre.”
― Pedro J. Fernández, Yo, Díaz

“Mientras recorríamos las calles de la Ciudad de México recordé cómo eran la primera vez que las vi, la terracería, el polvo; y ahora el drenaje, el alumbrado, los caminos pavimentados, los edificios como carbones negros iluminados por los faroles con electricidad, los templos coloniales; el pasado y el futuro mezclados en un presente incierto. Los faros de acetileno alumbraban el camino. Pasamos una última vez por el Palacio de Gobierno y la Catedral. Me hubiera gustado tener tiempo para cambiarme de ropa.”
― Pedro J. Fernández, Yo, Díaz

“How could they believe, upon seeing such a corpse, that this martyr would rise again? Inevitably, the question arises of how, with death being so atrocious and the laws of nature being so powerful, they can be overcome. How can anyone overcome them when even He who, while alive, had already defeated nature, which had submitted to Him when He commanded, "Talitha koum," and the girl arose? Nature appears to us as an immense, relentless, and silent beast.

If the Master Himself could have seen His image after the crucifixion, would He have been willing to climb the cross and consent to die as He did?”
― Dostoevsky, The Idiot