“I could not become anything; neither good nor bad; neither a scoundrel nor an honest man; neither a hero nor an insect. And now I am eking out my days in my corner, taunting myself with the bitter and entirely useless consolation that an intelligent man cannot seriously become anything, that only a fool can become something.”
―
Fyodor Dostoevsky,
Notes from Underground, White Nights, The Dream of a Ridiculous Man, and Selections from The House of the Dead
