7 best short stories by Fyodor Dostoevsky

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Fyodor Dostoevsky. 7 best short stories by Fyodor Dostoevsky

Introduction

The Russian Point Of View

Dostoyevsky and His Message to the World

White Nights

First Night

Second Night

Nastenka's History

Third Night

Fourth Night

Morning

An Honest Thief

The Christmas Tree and the Wedding

Part I

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

VII

VIII

IX

X

XI

Part II

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

VII

VIII

IX

X

The Dream of a Ridiculous Man. I

II

III

IV

V

A Little Hero

Mr. Prohartchin

Notas

About the Publisher

Отрывок из книги

Fyodor Dostoevsky was born in Moscow, Russia, on October 30, 1821. Son of Mikhail Dostoevsky and Maria Fyodorovna Nietcháieva. He was orphaned as a mother on February 27, 1837. That same year he was sent to Petersburg for the School of Military Engineering. In 1839, his father, who was a doctor, was murdered by the settlers of the farm where he lived. The fact provoked great upheavals in the life of Dostoevsky, who had the first attacks of epilepsy when it knew of the death of the father. His earliest letters show him to be a young man of passion and energy, as well as somewhat mentally unstable.

When Dostoyevsky finished school, he turned from the career he was trained and devoted himself to writing. In 1944, he resigned from public office and began writing his first novel, "Poor People," a novel that describes the mediocre environment in which he lived, published in 1846 in the "Petersburg Almanac".

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"On the other side? Really I don't know how to answer; I am afraid to.... Do you know I have been happy to-day? I walked along singing; I went out into the country; I have never had such happy moments. You ... perhaps it was my fancy.... Forgive me for referring to it; I fancied you were crying, and I ... could not bear to hear it ... it made my heart ache.... Oh, my goodness! Surely I might be troubled about you? Surely there was no harm in feeling brotherly compassion for you.... I beg your pardon, I said compassion.... Well, in short, surely you would not be offended at my involuntary impulse to go up to you?..."

"Stop, that's enough, don't talk of it," said the girl, looking down, and pressing my hand. "It's my fault for having spoken of it; but I am glad I was not mistaken in you.... But here I am home; I must go down this turning, it's two steps from here.... Good-bye, thank you!..."

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