Sasuke x Raskolnikov and More

Or so it seems

Yersinia pestis

The Second Library of Alexandria

Sasuke leaves the village

“What, Rodya, you are going already?” Pulcheria Alexandrovna asked in dismay. “At such a minute?” cried Razumihin. Dounia looked at her brother with incredulous wonder. He held his cap in his hand, he was preparing to leave them. “One would think you were burying me or saying good-bye for ever,” he said somewhat oddly. He attempted to smile, but it did not turn out a smile. “But who knows, perhaps it is the last time we shall see each other...” he let slip accidentally. It was what he was thinking, and it somehow was uttered aloud.

“What is the matter with you?” cried his mother. “Where are you going, Rodya?” asked Dounia rather strangely. “Oh, I’m quite obliged to...” he answered vaguely, as though hesitating what he would say. But there was a look of sharp determination in his white face. “I meant to say... as I was coming here... I meant to tell you, mother, and you, Dounia, that it would be better for us to part for a time. I feel ill, I am not at peace.... I will come afterwards, I will come of myself... when it’s possible. I remember you and love you.... Leave me, leave me alone. I decided this even before... I’m absolutely resolved on it. Whatever may come to me, whether I come to ruin or not, I want to be alone. Forget me altogether, it’s better. Don’t inquire about me. When I can, I’ll come of myself or... I’ll send for you. Perhaps it will all come back, but now if you love me, give me up... else I shall begin to hate you, I feel it.... Good-bye!” “Good God!” cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna.

Both his mother and his sister were terribly alarmed. Razumihin was also. “Rodya, Rodya, be reconciled with us! Let us be as before!” cried his poor mother. He turned slowly to the door and slowly went out of the room. Dounia overtook him. “Brother, what are you doing to mother?” she whispered, her eyes flashing with indignation. He looked dully at her. “No matter, I shall come.... I’m coming,” he muttered in an undertone, as though not fully conscious of what he was saying, and he went out of the room. “Wicked, heartless egoist!” cried Dounia. “He is insane, but not heartless. He is mad! Don’t you see it? You’re heartless after that!” Razumihin whispered in her ear, squeezing her hand tightly. “I shall be back directly,” he shouted to the horror-stricken mother, and he ran out of the room. Raskolnikov was waiting for him at the end of the passage. “I knew you would run after me,” he said. “Go back to them—be with them... be with them to-morrow and always.... I... perhaps I shall come... if I can. Good-bye.” And without holding out his hand he walked away. “But where are you going? What are you doing? What’s the matter with you? How can you go on like this?” Razumihin muttered, at his wits’ end.

Raskolnikov stopped once more. “Once for all, never ask me about anything. I have nothing to tell you. Don’t come to see me. Maybe I’ll come here.... Leave me, but don’t leave them. Do you understand me?” It was dark in the corridor, they were standing near the lamp. For a minute they were looking at one another in silence. Razumihin remembered that minute all his life. Raskolnikov’s burning and intent eyes grew more penetrating every moment, piercing into his soul, into his consciousness. Suddenly Razumihin started. Something strange, as it were, passed between them.... Some idea, some hint, as it were, slipped, something awful, hideous, and suddenly understood on both sides.... Razumihin turned pale. “Do you understand now?” said Raskolnikov, his face twitching nervously. “Go back, go to them,” he said suddenly, and turning quickly, he went out of the house. I will not attempt to describe how Razumihin went back to the ladies, how he soothed them, how he protested that Rodya needed rest in his illness, protested that Rodya was sure to come, that he would come every day, that he was very, very much upset, that he must not be irritated, that he, Razumihin, would watch over him, would get him a doctor, the best doctor, a consultation.... In fact from that evening Razumihin took his place with them as a son and a brother.

I'm about to start myself!

And they'll take a mile

🪞

All I got was organization, but emergence was my goal

Being a ~7 y/o boy. Fetching, sniffing dirty things, adored by older women

work on yourself, study! build a personal library while you're at it

Don't come to New York

It's righteous (sometimes)

It has different forms (you smell bad, you're too loud, you hit me)

Some get rewarded for it with a golden tomb

> The real Master to whom all is permitted storms Toulon, makes a massacre in Paris, forgets an army in Egypt, wastes half a million men in the Moscow expedition and gets off with a jest at Vilna. And altars are set up to him after his death, and so all is permitted. No, such people, it seems, are not of flesh but of bronze!” One sudden irrelevant idea almost made him laugh. Napoleon, the pyramids, Waterloo, and a wretched skinny old woman, a pawnbroker with a red trunk under her bed—it’s a nice hash for Porfiry Petrovitch to digest! How can they digest it! It’s too inartistic. “A Napoleon creep under an old woman’s bed! Ugh, how loathsome!”

An idea can pass down more directly than DNA, haven't you heard?

And each time you've yelled -- I heard you!