Character: Arkady Dolgoruky. Page 3

That's immoral and akin to the love that she deserved. Love must be earned.

There are three sorts of scoundrels in the world: the scoundrels naive, that is convinced that their meanness is the highest nobility, scoundrels ashamed, that is ashamed of their own meanness, but the essential intention is still to finish, and finally just bastards, thoroughbred scoundrels.

I don't owe anyone anything, I pay society money in the form of fiscal levies for the fact that I was not robbed, had not arrived and was not killed, and no more demands on me dares. I can be, personally and other ideas and wants to serve humanity, and will, and, perhaps, ten times more will than all the preachers; but I want to be with me, no one dare to claim, to make me like Mr. Kraft, my complete freedom, even if I don't lift. But to rush and fall on everybody's neck from the love of humanity, and dissolve in tears of emotion - it's only fashion. Why am I bound to love my neighbor there or your future mankind, which I'll never see that about me will not know and which in turn will decay without a trace, and memories (time here means nothing), when the Earth will turn to turn into an icy stone and fly in the vacuum of space with an infinite set of the same ice rocks, then there is pointless why you can not imagine! Here your teaching! Tell me why I must be noble, especially if it continues for one minute.

One must be too disgustingly in love with yourself to write without shame about himself.