pusalusi 's review for:

The Death of Ivan Ilyich by Leo Tolstoy

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tolls the bell to announce the near end of a life over propriety forsaken. an otherwise inconsequential accident threatens to unravel the tightly knit threads of life, unto death.

"why deceive myself? isn’t it obvious to everyone but me that i’m dying, and that it’s only a question of weeks, days?… it may happen this very moment. there was light and now there is darkness. i was here and now i’m going there! where?"

and what, then, of my life? gone, to no purpose; a wave in the sea.