Book: Steppenwolf. Page 2

It was incredibly nice to listen to someone, sit next to someone who questioned you, ordered you, scolded you.

To hang, can be difficult, I do not know. But to live is far, far harder.

I thought that was over, not only the stranger, not only tomorrow or after tomorrow, will end and I, closed, buried in the mud among the embarrassment and lies of the bidders, no, because over all, our entire culture, our entire faith, our entire joy, who was very ill and soon there will also be closed. The cemetery was the world of our culture.

Wherever I looked, wherever he turned a thought, never waiting for me joy, nothing not me, not attracted, everything stank of rotten worn out, rotten prodovolstvia, everything was old, limp, grey, flabby, dead..

I disappointedly went on, not knowing where, no goals, no aspirations, no duties for me did not exist. Life was disgustingly bitter taste, I felt that the long growing nausea reaches its highest point, as life pushes and throws me...

Over the years I have become a man without a definite occupation, no family, no homeland, were outside any social groups, one, no one liked me, many I was suspicious, being in constant, violent conflict with public opinion and morality of society, and even though I was still living in petty-bourgeois environment, in all its thoughts and feelings I was in this world a stranger.

"Back to nature!" - the man is always wrong, suffering and despair.

Everything in life is not as simple as in our thoughts, it's not as rough as in our poor idiotic language.

Man is an onion consisting of hundreds of skins, cloth, consisting of numerous threads.

Quite a trifle to was struck by lightning.

Who is not against me is for me.

Every strong man attains to that which tells him to search for the real impulse of his nature.

Life is eternal, painful movement and excitement, she's unhappy, she's being ravaged and torn apart, it's ugly and meaningless, unless meaning not just those rare events, acts, thoughts, creations that break out over the chaos of this life.

Beastliness was all our art, all our thinking, all our imaginary culture, if you compare them with true culture.