"When you love someone, you love the person as they are, and not as you'd like them to be."
"Yes, there is something in me hateful, repulsive," thought Ljewin, as he came away from the Schtscherbazkijs', and walked in the direction of his brother's lodgings. "And I don't get on with other people. Pride, they say. No, I have no pride. If I had any pride, I should not have put myself in such a position"."
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Source: What is Art?. Book by Leo Tolstoy, 1897.
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