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- Федор Достоевский
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- Стр. 372/592
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"
Oh
!
it
's
all
the
same
to
me
now
--
now
!
But
at
that
time
I
would
soak
my
pillow
at
night
with
tears
of
mortification
,
and
tear
at
my
blanket
in
my
rage
and
fury
.
Oh
,
how
I
longed
at
that
time
to
be
turned
out
--
me
,
eighteen
years
old
,
poor
,
half-clothed
,
turned
out
into
the
street
,
quite
alone
,
without
lodging
,
without
work
,
without
a
crust
of
bread
,
without
relations
,
without
a
single
acquaintance
,
in
some
large
town
--
hungry
,
beaten
(
if
you
like
)
,
but
in
good
health
--
and
then
I
would
show
them
--
"
What
would
I
show
them
?
"
Oh
,
do
n't
think
that
I
have
no
sense
of
my
own
humiliation
!
I
have
suffered
already
in
reading
so
far
.
Which
of
you
all
does
not
think
me
a
fool
at
this
moment
--
a
young
fool
who
knows
nothing
of
life
--
forgetting
that
to
live
as
I
have
lived
these
last
six
months
is
to
live
longer
than
grey-haired
old
men
.
Well
,
let
them
laugh
,
and
say
it
is
all
nonsense
,
if
they
please
.
They
may
say
it
is
all
fairy-tales
,
if
they
like
;
and
I
have
spent
whole
nights
telling
myself
fairy-tales
.
I
remember
them
all
.
But
how
can
I
tell
fairy-tales
now
?
The
time
for
them
is
over
.
They
amused
me
when
I
found
that
there
was
not
even
time
for
me
to
learn
the
Greek
grammar
,
as
I
wanted
to
do
.
'
I
shall
die
before
I
get
to
the
syntax
,
'
I
thought
at
the
first
page
--
and
threw
the
book
under
the
table
.
It
is
there
still
,
for
I
forbade
anyone
to
pick
it
up
.
"
If
this
'
Explanation
'
gets
into
anybody
's
hands
,
and
they
have
patience
to
read
it
through
,
they
may
consider
me
a
madman
,
or
a
schoolboy
,
or
,
more
likely
,
a
man
condemned
to
die
,
who
thought
it
only
natural
to
conclude
that
all
men
,
excepting
himself
,
esteem
life
far
too
lightly
,
live
it
far
too
carelessly
and
lazily
,
and
are
,
therefore
,
one
and
all
,
unworthy
of
it
.
Well
,
I
affirm
that
my
reader
is
wrong
again
,
for
my
convictions
have
nothing
to
do
with
my
sentence
of
death
.
Ask
them
,
ask
any
one
of
them
,
or
all
of
them
,
what
they
mean
by
happiness
!
Oh
,
you
may
be
perfectly
sure
that
if
Columbus
was
happy
,
it
was
not
after
he
had
discovered
America
,
but
when
he
was
discovering
it
!
You
may
be
quite
sure
that
he
reached
the
culminating
point
of
his
happiness
three
days
before
he
saw
the
New
World
with
his
actual
eyes
,
when
his
mutinous
sailors
wanted
to
tack
about
,
and
return
to
Europe
!
What
did
the
New
World
matter
after
all
?
Columbus
had
hardly
seen
it
when
he
died
,
and
in
reality
he
was
entirely
ignorant
of
what
he
had
discovered
.
The
important
thing
is
life
--
life
and
nothing
else
!
What
is
any
'
discovery
'
whatever
compared
with
the
incessant
,
eternal
discovery
of
life
?
"
But
what
is
the
use
of
talking
?
I
'm
afraid
all
this
is
so
commonplace
that
my
confession
will
be
taken
for
a
schoolboy
exercise
--
the
work
of
some
ambitious
lad
writing
in
the
hope
of
his
work
'
seeing
the
light
'
;
or
perhaps
my
readers
will
say
that
'
I
had
perhaps
something
to
say
,
but
did
not
know
how
to
express
it
'
"
Let
me
add
to
this
that
in
every
idea
emanating
from
genius
,
or
even
in
every
serious
human
idea
--
born
in
the
human
brain
--
there
always
remains
something
--
some
sediment
--
which
can
not
be
expressed
to
others
,
though
one
wrote
volumes
and
lectured
upon
it
for
five-and-thirty
years
.
There
is
always
a
something
,
a
remnant
,
which
will
never
come
out
from
your
brain
,
but
will
remain
there
with
you
,
and
you
alone
,
for
ever
and
ever
,
and
you
will
die
,
perhaps
,
without
having
imparted
what
may
be
the
very
essence
of
your
idea
to
a
single
living
soul
.
"
So
that
if
I
can
not
now
impart
all
that
has
tormented
me
for
the
last
six
months
,
at
all
events
you
will
understand
that
,
having
reached
my
'
last
convictions
,
'
I
must
have
paid
a
very
dear
price
for
them
.
That
is
what
I
wished
,
for
reasons
of
my
own
,
to
make
a
point
of
in
this
my
'
Explanation
.
'
"
But
let
me
resume
.
"
