Idiot Book Dostoevsky Novels & Stories

I feel so stupid. I don't think I will ever come out of my room again. My gaze darted to my window, and a sigh of relief pushed out of my mouth as I saw his window was closed and covered with curtains. What can I do to punish myself, also, that will get me out of this mess? I pondered with my fingers in my mouth, then snapped my fingers in the air. After realizing that I haven't been catching up in Darius’s class. Especially in terms of reading a novel. I intended to start with The Castle of Otranto by Horace Walpole (1764)

The snow still fell outside the stone walls of the estate. It blanketed the estate in white silence, turning its violence white and its shadows soft. But inside the Dostoevsky household, nothing was quiet. The attempt on Andrei’s life had ignited a fire in the house—one that would burn slow, subtle, and deep.

He flipped over the front of the book to see the title. It was Dostoyevsky’s The Idiot. “Well, that’s fitting,” B laughed and closed the book. He fell deeper into the recesses of the chair. He brought the glasses up to his face and thought, If this is what an estate man does, then let me be an estate man for just a couple of minutes while the whiskey does its work. B let Dostoyevksy’s words run through his mind like a new mantra — it’s life that matters… the process of discovering… the everlasting and perpetual process… — and slid the glasses onto his face.

Tiny things that would randomly appear within our heads while I used my time sparingly to help him as well. Each of us bouncing ideas for one of his latest projects. With a sketch pad in hand, Tony uses the afternoon to draw up sketches while I sat off towards the side of the room, my body covered by a blanket as I just read books upon my tablet. Fully immersed within my books, Deal with the Devil. My book about an Irish Enforcer who ends up falling for a Bratva Princess. A Bratva Princess who was also a ballerina and an illegitimate child of the Russian Mob Leader.

"We accept the love we think we deserve." -Stephen Chbosky- *** Anton was walking back and forth in front of a bookshelf in the library within his manor. It was not exactly one of his favorite room to be at, he did enjoy going there to read or just unwind himself from all the noises and chaos of the world. However, that day he had a rather different reason to be there, he was seeking some Dostoevsky and Tolstoy pieces from his collection. It had been a while since he read them and he was not exactly sure where they were. He wanted to make sure when Ana came there he could lead her straight to the pieces instead of them just wondering around seeking for it together like a fool.

Already much more soothing than sad songs and the sound of explosions. Tall shelves lined the walls, crammed with books. Of course this man had a library that looked like it belonged in an interior magazine spread. A low chandelier hung in the middle of the room above a long solid wood table, a few chairs, one couch in the corner with a folded throw. I walked along the first shelf, letting my fingertips brush the spines. Gold lettering, embossed titles, lettering already faded. The first row was full of classics. Dostoyevsky, Tolstoy, Dumas. Of course Zane owned a collection of depressed men who liked to write about sin and consequences. Fitting.

It sank even deeper but I tried not to show it. "Why are you telling me? You usually don't." He was quiet, till he breathed. "I don't know," before his footsteps got entirely erased. * * * * My fingers trailed across the spine of the books and I stopped on a white covered book. I pull it out of the shelf and hold it in both hands. "Crime and Punishment," I read aloud before gazing down at the author's name. "Fyodor Dos-tos-to-eeev-evsky?" I squint my eyes. "Fyodor Dostoevsky!"

PTSD. REVENGE. SCÀRS. SLÀPPING. STÀLKING. SOMNOPHILIA TORTŮRE. TOYS. VIOLENCE. *The author does not promote such practices and neither advices you to do so. If you think any of the above subjects could stress you and isn't for you, do not proceed, but if you think you can handle an Anti-hero like Jeremiah Sokolov, please be ready for the ride ahead. I hope by the end of this book, you'll fall in love with these characters.