It was not only that i could not become spiteful, I did not know how to become anything; neither spiteful nor kind, neither a rascal or an honest man, neither a hero or an insect. Now, I am living my life in my corner, taunting myself with the spiteful and useless consolation that an intelligent man cannot become anything seriously, and it is only the fool who becomes anything.
—Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Notes from the Underground (via johncunningham)
