The notebook and the manuscript for The Brothers Karamazov of Fyodor Dostoyewsky
If and when you arrive at this segment, I will invite you to go to "blog," where my "musings" and all that pertaining to literature will be entertained. When I was much younger, - oh, am I still young? - enthralled with all that is intellectual, arts, books, things of the "spirit"... perhaps giving a tad more preeminence to music, I had some sort of fear losing one of the faculties of perception. If I were to lose hearing, I still had vision, I thought. Were I to lose vision as well - so my neurosis - I then had the intellect, the mind. I came to believe that the pure abstraction of thought was the highest expression and delight of a human mind. I still hold to that in a somewhat cryptic way. Imagine, and I do as I did eons ago, a human brain resting on a pillow, nourished somehow but without the possibility to communicate, to speak, to hear, to perceive the outside world but with the ability to think, to feel, to be, reduced to the ultimate satisfaction of pure thought.
My mother must have suspected my hypomania. The worries we thrust upon our progenitors! Perhaps our tarriance here can be made fulfilling. Let's go to my blog and journal. Here you have to click on the numbers and again on the post to open it up. Vestra frui Maneat.
