Notes From the Underground

by Fyodor Dostoevsky

I am a sick man . . . I am a wicked man. An unattractive man. I think my liver hurts. However, I don't know a fig about my sickness, and am not sure what it is that hurts me.

I lived in this corner before as well, but now I've settled into it.

I did not believe that such things happened to others, and therefore kept it to myself all my life as a secret.

who was the first to proclaim that man does dirty only because he doesn't know his real interests; and that were he to be enlightened, were his eyes to be opened to his real, normal interests, man would immediately stop doing dirty, would immediately become good and noble, because, being enlightened and understanding his real profit, he would see his real profit precisely in the good, and it's common knowledge that no man can act knowingly against his own profit, consequently, out of necessity, so to speak, he would start doing good? Oh, the babe! Oh, the pure, innocent child!

is it possible to be perfectly candid with oneself and not be afraid of the whole truth?

For we've reached a point where we regard real “living life” almost as labor, almost as service, and we all agree in ourselves that it's better from a book. And