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Yazar: Fyodor Dostoevsky

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"Why the word ought? It's not a matter of permission or
prohibition. He will suffer if he is sorry for his victim. Pain
and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and
a deep heart. The really great men must, I think, have great
sadness on earth," he added dreamily, not in the tone of the
conversation.
He raised his eyes, looked earnestly at them all, smiled, and
took his cap. He was too quiet by comparison with his manner at
his entrance, and he felt this. Everyone got up.
"Well, you may abuse me, be angry with me if you like," Porfiry
Petrovitch began again, "but I can't resist. Allow me one little
question (I know I am troubling you). There is just one little
notion I want to express, simply that I may not forget it."
"Very good, tell me your little notion," Raskolnikov stood
waiting, pale and grave before him.

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