Breaking-point

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Huebsch, 1915 - 415 pages
 

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Page 246 - Hugh stood in the middle of the room, not knowing what to do with himself, until she put him out of his misery by saying: "See if you can get the fire going.
Page 146 - every death is monstrous, though it were a thousand times a law of nature. Death is an act of violence against the race, and only suicide is free. You can't say it's natural if I want to live and have to die, but still less can you say it's unnatural if I die of my own free will as soon as there is nothing left for me to live for, simply because 1 don't want to live any longer.
Page 402 - Why should there be these millions oi duplicates when even the original is vile ? . . . Perhaps it's raining just like this at hundreds of places, the same filthy weather, the same wind and gloom, and a couple like ourselves wandering about. Aren't you filled with despair, Doctor ? " " No, why should I be ? ..." replied Dr. Arnoldi, who could scarcely keep him on his feet. " Oh, nothing enrages you ! . . . You are a dead man!
Page 7 - THE little town lay in the Steppes, and beyond its outskirts, beyond the vibrating air of the distant country-side, lay the intangible depths of the horizon of towering forests and the remote indifferent sky. It was easy here to realise the vanity and futility of the handful of human beings who lived, suffered, and died in the place.
Page 38 - And had he known who was guilty of this mass of useless agony, the old doctor would have gone up to him with fearless, open countenance, and cursed him — nor feared pain, death, or the last judgment. ... So full of pity and bitterness was this man's weary soul. But he knew that help was impossible and that neither entreaties nor arguments would ever make reply.
Page 12 - He believed that only the life of yesterday and to-day, and perhaps of to-morrow also, presented such a chaotic, aimless outlook. After that a mighty wave would come, sweeping away all that was old and dirty and bringing with it a harmonious, mathematically regulated happiness, in which he, the young exiled student, that paltry mortal creature, should also have his share, his value and his duty.
Page 295 - Michailov's mind that the best thing for him to do would be to get drunk like the rest, so that his consciousness might go to the devil.
Page 270 - There are no sorrows, everything is useless. It is futile to begin a new day, to dress, to eat and drink, to speak, to think. Not that he was tired of it all ... no, it is merely that it is so pointless.
Page 403 - " But do you know that you go further than Naumoff ? He at least believes in annihilation, but you believe in nothing ! ... Or do you believe in anything, Doctor ? "
Page 32 - ... beyond. . . . What were they, God, heaven, the cosmos ? ... a little heap of decaying bones, a light flickering out, and nothing more. One might argue about religion and believe in immortality as long as the intellect could work and the body enjoy life to the full, but now, when all might see how a man turned to a dying animal, an idiot, a mass of crumbling bones and failing organs, these ideas seemed as ludicrous as old-wives

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