We forget that everything should always be
alive in living hearts. Don't be in a hurry to bury the eternally
alive, the ever luminous, along with a man's body. The church is
destroyed, but God is immortal."
Carried away by her emotions she sat down, leaning her elbows on
the table, and continued more thoughtfully in a lower voice, looking
smilingly through mist-covered eyes at the faces of the comrades:
"Maybe I'm talking nonsense. But life intoxicates me by its wonderful
complexity, by the variety of its phenomena, which at times seem like
a miracle to me. Perhaps we are too sparing in the expenditure of our
feelings. We live a great deal in our thoughts, and that spoils us
to a certain extent. We estimate, but we don't feel."
"Did anything good happen to you?" asked Sofya with a smile.
"Yes," said Sasha, nodding her head. "I had a whole night's talk
with Vyesovshchikov. I didn't use to like him. He seemed rude and
dull. Undoubtedly that's what he was. A dark, immovable irritation
at everybody lived in him. He always used to place himself, as it
were, like a dead weight in the center of things, and wrathfully
say, 'I, I, I.' There was something bourgeois in this, low, and
exasperating.
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