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112 pages, Paperback
First published November 1, 1892
وسعوا من وش العقلاء
دنيا و دايرة خلف خلاف
و المجانين فيها اصناف
كلو لازم� له قميص بكتاف
من اوطى ما فيهم للهاي�
و سلم لنا بقى ع التروماى
“And what is that fantastic ‘true happiness�? There’s no answer, of course. We are kept here behind barred windows, tortured, left to rot; but that is very good and reasonable, because there is no difference at all between this ward and a warm, snug study. A convenient philosophy. You can do nothing, and your conscience is clear, and you feel you are wise� No, sir, it is not philosophy, it’s not thinking, it’s not breadth of vision, but laziness, fakirism, drowsy stupefaction.�
“These disorderly proceedings were perfectly well known in the town, and were even exaggerated, but people took them calmly; some justified them on the ground that there were only peasants and working men in the hospital, who could not be dissatisfied, since they were much worse off at home than in the hospital […]�![]()
“When Andrey Yefimitch was deceived or flattered, or accounts he knew to be cooked were brought him to sign, he would turn as red as a crab and feel guilty, but yet he would sign the accounts. When the patients complained to him of being hungry or of the roughness of the nurses, he would be confused and mutter guiltily: “Very well, very well, I will go into it later � Most likely there is some misunderstanding…�
“[…] And, indeed, why hinder people dying if death is the normal and legitimate end of everyone? What is gained if some shop-keeper or clerk lives an extra five or ten years? If the aim of medicine is by drugs to alleviate suffering, the question forces itself on one: why alleviate it? In the first place, they say that suffering leads man to perfection; and in the second, if mankind really learns to alleviate its sufferings with pills and drops, it will completely abandon religion and philosophy, in which it has hitherto found not merely protection from all sorts of trouble, but even happiness. Pushkin suffered terrible agonies before his death, poor Heine lay paralyzed for several years; why, then, should not some Andrey Yefimitch or Matryona Savishna be ill, since their lives had nothing of importance in them, and would have been entirely empty and like the life of an amoeba except for suffering?�
" إن جوهر الإنسان كله يقوم على أحاسيس الجوع والبرد والإهانات والخسائر والخوف الهاملتي من الموت. الحياة كلها في هذه الأحاسيس. يمكنك أن تشقى بالحياة وتمقتها، ولكن لا تحتقرها "