I AM A SICK MAN …. I am a spiteful man. I am an unattractive
man. I believe my liver is diseased. However, I know nothing
at all about my disease, and do not know for certain
what ails me. I don’t consult a doctor for it, and never have,
though I have a respect for medicine and doctors. Besides, I
am extremely superstitious, sufficiently so to respect medicine,
anyway (I am well-educated enough not to be superstitious,
but I am superstitious). No, I refuse to consult a doctor
from spite. That you probably will not understand. Well,
I understand it, though. Of course, I can’t explain who it is
precisely that I am mortifying in this case by my spite: I am
perfectly well aware that I cannot “pay out” the doctors by
not consulting them; I know better than anyone that by all
this I am only injuring myself and no one else. But still, if I
don’t consult a doctor it is from spite. My liver is bad, well—
let it get worse!
This is the starting paragraph of "Notes from the Underground".
The writing is something else... After listening to his biography I have started to read his works!!
Brilliant Briliant and pure Brilliance!!
He was next in line to be shot from a shooting squard after 3 persons before him were shot. He got pardoned off at the last minute by a soldier who came with a clemency papers. Thats is something else which reflects in his writings!!
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