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作者: Fyodor Dostoevsky

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Oh, what had he to do now with his own baseness, with all these
petty vanities, officers, German women, debts, police-offices? If
he had been sentenced to be burnt at that moment, he would not
have stirred, would hardly have heard the sentence to the end.
Something was happening to him entirely new, sudden and unknown.
It was not that he understood, but he felt clearly with all the
intensity of sensation that he could never more appeal to these
people in the police-office with sentimental effusions like his
recent outburst, or with anything whatever; and that if they had
been his own brothers and sisters and not police-officers, it
would have been utterly out of the question to appeal to them in
any circumstance of life. He had never experienced such a strange
and awful sensation. And what was most agonising--it was more a
sensation than a conception or idea, a direct sensation, the most
agonising of all the sensations he had known in his life.

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