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Fyodor Dostoevsky

White Nights

“A fleeting encounter, a lasting impression.”
Step into the dreamlike world of Dostoevsky's White Nights, where love blooms under the luminous sky of St. Petersburg. This masterpiece weaves a tender story of a solitary dreamer who, in a city that never sleeps, finds an unexpected companion during the magical “white nights.”

Dive into a tale that captures the beauty of fleeting moments and the hope of new beginnings. Fyodor Dostoevsky's White Nights is a heartwarming blend of romance, introspection, and the bittersweet nature of unfulfilled desires. Its profound storytelling will leave you filled with joy, nostalgia, and a comforting sense of connection to the characters' emotional journeys.

Praise for Fyodor Dostoevsky:
“Dostoevsky's narratives penetrate the essence of the human soul.” — The Guardian
“A literary treasure, White Nights shines with its emotional depth and timeless relevance.” — Literary Classics Review

Join the countless readers who have been moved by this captivating novella. Don't miss the chance to experience one of Dostoevsky's most beloved works.

Add White Nights to your collection today and let the magic of Dostoevsky's words light up your reading experience.
69 паперових сторінок
Правовласник
Bookwire
Дата публікації оригіналу
2024
Рік виходу видання
2024
Видавництво
MyBooks Classics
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  • Ogiділиться враженням2 місяці тому
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  • Evaділиться враженням9 місяців тому
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    Great i loved it my favorite quote is "Your hand is cold, mine burns like fire. How blind you are, Nastenka!" Also it is very sad how her name was said a lot but she didn't even bother asking what his name was... 😕

  • in𖦏ділиться враженням2 роки тому
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    :(.

Цитати

  • Khushi Kapoorцитує3 роки тому
    Have you lived or not? Look, one says to oneself, look how cold the world is growing
  • Irit Weinsteinцитує2 роки тому
    I don’t know how to be silent when my heart is speaking.
  • Jovanaцитує2 роки тому
    and at the same time he cannot refuse his imagination the little diversion of comparing the queer fellow’s countenance during their conversation with the expression of an unhappy kitten treacherously captured, roughly handled, frightened and subjected to all sorts of indignities by children, till, utterly crestfallen, it hides away from them under a chair in the dark, and there must needs at its leisure bristle up, spit, and wash its insulted face with both paws, and long afterwards look angrily at life and nature, and even at the bits saved from the master’s dinner for it by the sympathetic housekeeper?

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