Halema

“And so I ask myself: 'Where are your dreams?' And I shake my head and mutter: 'How the years go by!' And I ask myself again: 'What have you done with those years? Where have you buried your best moments? Have you really lived? Look,' I say to myself, 'how cold it is becoming all over the world!' And more years will pass and behind them will creep grim isolation. Tottering senility will come hobbling, leaning on a crutch, and behind these will come unrelieved boredom and despair. The world of fancies will fade, dreams will wilt and die and fall like autumn leaves from the trees. . . .”
― Fyodor Dostoevsky, White Nights

“When you were talking to me here, I couldn’t sit still; when you cried here, when you tormented yourself because you were jilted, because your love was slighted and disregarded, I felt that in my heart there was so much love for you.”
― Fyodor Dostoyevsky, White Nights