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- Федор Достоевский
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"
Who
,
in
the
name
of
what
Law
,
would
think
of
disputing
my
full
personal
right
over
the
fortnight
of
life
left
to
me
?
What
jurisdiction
can
be
brought
to
bear
upon
the
case
?
Who
would
wish
me
,
not
only
to
be
sentenced
,
but
to
endure
the
sentence
to
the
end
?
Surely
there
exists
no
man
who
would
wish
such
a
thing
--
why
should
anyone
desire
it
?
For
the
sake
of
morality
?
Well
,
I
can
understand
that
if
I
were
to
make
an
attempt
upon
my
own
life
while
in
the
enjoyment
of
full
health
and
vigour
--
my
life
which
might
have
been
'
useful
,
'
etc.
,
etc.
--
morality
might
reproach
me
,
according
to
the
old
routine
,
for
disposing
of
my
life
without
permission
--
or
whatever
its
tenet
may
be
.
But
now
,
now
,
when
my
sentence
is
out
and
my
days
numbered
!
How
can
morality
have
need
of
my
last
breaths
,
and
why
should
I
die
listening
to
the
consolations
offered
by
the
prince
,
who
,
without
doubt
,
would
not
omit
to
demonstrate
that
death
is
actually
a
benefactor
to
me
?
(
Christians
like
him
always
end
up
with
that
--
it
is
their
pet
theory
.
so
plainly
written
on
it
--
the
more
unhappy
they
make
me
?
What
is
the
use
of
all
your
nature
to
me
--
all
your
parks
and
trees
,
your
sunsets
and
sunrises
,
your
blue
skies
and
your
self-satisfied
faces
--
when
all
this
wealth
of
beauty
and
happiness
begins
with
the
fact
that
it
accounts
me
--
only
me
--
one
too
many
!
What
is
the
good
of
all
this
beauty
and
glory
to
me
,
when
every
second
,
every
moment
,
I
can
not
but
be
aware
that
this
little
fly
which
buzzes
around
my
head
in
the
sun
's
rays
--
even
this
little
fly
is
a
sharer
and
participator
in
all
the
glory
of
the
universe
,
and
knows
its
place
and
is
happy
in
it
;
--
while
I
--
only
I
,
am
an
outcast
,
and
have
been
blind
to
the
fact
hitherto
,
thanks
to
my
simplicity
!
Oh
!
I
know
well
how
the
prince
and
others
would
like
me
,
instead
of
indulging
in
all
these
wicked
words
of
my
own
,
to
sing
,
to
the
glory
and
triumph
of
morality
,
that
well-known
verse
of
Gilbert
's
:
"'
O
,
puissent
voir
longtemps
votre
beauté
sacrée
Tant
d'amis
,
sourds
à
mes
adieux
!
Qu'ils
meurent
pleins
de
jours
,
que
leur
mort
soit
pleurée
,
Qu'un
ami
leur
ferme
les
yeux
!
'
"
But
believe
me
,
believe
me
,
my
simple-hearted
friends
,
that
in
this
highly
moral
verse
,
in
this
academical
blessing
to
the
world
in
general
in
the
French
language
,
is
hidden
the
intensest
gall
and
bitterness
;
but
so
well
concealed
is
the
venom
,
that
I
dare
say
the
poet
actually
persuaded
himself
that
his
words
were
full
of
the
tears
of
pardon
and
peace
,
instead
of
the
bitterness
of
disappointment
and
malice
,
and
so
died
in
the
delusion
.
"
Do
you
know
there
is
a
limit
of
ignominy
,
beyond
which
man
's
consciousness
of
shame
can
not
go
,
and
after
which
begins
satisfaction
in
shame
?
Well
,
of
course
humility
is
a
great
force
in
that
sense
,
I
admit
that
--
though
not
in
the
sense
in
which
religion
accounts
humility
to
be
strength
!
"
Religion
!
--
I
admit
eternal
life
--
and
perhaps
I
always
did
admit
it
.
"
Admitted
that
consciousness
is
called
into
existence
by
the
will
of
a
Higher
Power
;
admitted
that
this
consciousness
looks
out
upon
the
world
and
says
'
I
am
;
'
and
admitted
that
the
Higher
Power
wills
that
the
consciousness
so
called
into
existence
,
be
suddenly
extinguished
(
for
so
--
for
some
unexplained
reason
--
it
is
and
must
be
)
--
still
there
comes
the
eternal
question
--
why
must
I
be
humble
through
all
this
?
Is
it
not
enough
that
I
am
devoured
,
without
my
being
expected
to
bless
the
power
that
devours
me
?
Surely
--
surely
I
need
not
suppose
that
Somebody
--
there
--
will
be
offended
because
I
do
not
wish
to
live
out
the
fortnight
allowed
me
?
I
do
n't
believe
it
.
