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outubro 29, 2002 ... and on a personal note “The wretched mouse has by this time accumulated, in addition to the original nastiness, so many other nastinesses in the shape of questions and doubts, and so many other unresolved problems in addition to the original problem, that it has involuntarily collected around itself a fatal morass, a stinking bog, consisting of its own doubts and agitation, and finally of spittle rained on it by all the spontaneous men of action standing portentously round as judges and referees, and howling with laughter. Of course, nothing remains for it to do but shrug the whole thing off and creep shamefacedly into its hole with a smile of pretended contempt in which it doesn’t even believe itself. There in its nasty stinking cellar our offended, browbeaten and derided mouse stinks at once into cold, venomous, and above all undying resentment. It will sit there for forty years together remembering the insult in the minutest and most shameful detail and constantly adding even more shameful details of its own invention, maliciously tormenting and fretting itself with its own imagination. (...) But it is precisely this cold, sickening half-despair, half-hope, this deliberately burying oneself in a cellar for forty years out of spite, this well-established and yet somehow unconvincing powerlessness to escape from the situation, all this poisonous accumulation of unsatisfied wishes in the breast, all these feverish vacillations, all these resolutions firmly taken for all time and repented of again after a few minutes, that give rise to and nourish that strange pleasure i was speaking of.” Notes from Underground . Dostoievski mais um chororô de bel seslaf |
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