Character: Joyce

There is no border between being and consciousness: a complete unity of ideas and events, perception and imagination, memory and duration, inner speech and words. Consciousness is woven into being, being is woven into consciousness. Time dissolves and disappears. There is no time: everything happens here and now.

Looking around him, what does the tormented soul see around him? Hopelessness, exploitation, meanness, spiritual loneliness, doom. Here they trade in art and faith, here the scoundrels and scum are happy, here life is miserable and musty, people are the living dead.

I doomed myself to a beggarly existence, but I did not drop myself in my own eyes. By hierarchical standards, I'm just a bum. I have already taken up medicine three times, tried to study law, music. In life I experience incredible difficulties, but they do not bother me in the least. I am the enemy of human servility and baseness.

The night did not begin today - it has always been. The world has not grown decrepit - decrepitude is its eternal state. Decomposition is the original, permanent property of humanity that is not subject to change. In the midst of death, we are in life.

Laughter, evil, pride, madness, one after another, will appear after the sensitivity and love for justice, and serve as an example of human amazement: everyone recognizes himself in them not as he should be, but as he is.

While the public treasury dissolves into the festivals of the brotherhood, a bell of ominous fire buzzes in the clouds.

- Listen, Joyce, - said Ivan. - Here is a Russian boy asks, what will you do when you get rich?
For some time Joyce looked at Yura.
"Okay," he said. I know what the answer is waiting for the boy. So I will ask. The boy will grow up and become an adult man. All his life he will deal with their... how you say... interesting work. But he will grow old and can no longer work. Then what he will do with this boy?
<...>
- I... don't know, I never thought... he paused. The bartender seriously and looked sadly at him. Slowly crawling moments of terror. Jura said with despair: I'll try to die sooner than I will be able to work... - bartender's Eyebrows climbed his forehead, he anxiously looked back at Ivan. In utter confusion Yura said: - And generally, I think that the most important thing for man it is beautiful to die!

Love. How fortunate that she met. It now seems that there are some random and unfair saving of the senses, when the greatest happiness of one man - albeit a short and fragile - why it should depend on the greatest misfortune of the other.