A review by headecay
The Idiot by Fyodor Dostoevsky

— But enough. When I get to these lines, the sun will probably already be risen and “resounding in the sky,” and a tremendous, incalculable force will pour out on all that is under the sun. So be it! I will die looking straight into the wellspring of force and life, and I will not want this life! If it had been in my power not to be born, I probably would not have accepted existence on such derisive conditions. But I still have the power to die, though I’m giving back what’s already numbered. No great power, no great rebellion either.