âI have a longing for life, and I go on living in spite of logic. Though I may not believe in the order of the universe, yet I love the sticky little leaves as they open in spring. I love the blue sky, I love some people, whom one loves sometimes without knowing why. I love some great deeds done by men, though Iâve long ceased perhaps to have faith in them, yet from old habit oneâs heart prizes them. I love the sticky leaves in spring, the blue sky â thatâs all it is. Itâs not a matter of intellect or logic, itâs loving with oneâs inside, with oneâs stomach.â
â Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov (via freelance-philosopher)














