Fyodor Dostoevsky,
Poor Folk — August 4
“ The pity of it all is that, while you are depriving yourself of everything, I keep solacing myself with various amenities-- which is why I am telling you this, that the pangs of conscience may not torment me. Frankly, I confess that I am in desperate straits--in such straits as I have never yet known. My landlady flouts me, and I enjoy the respect of noone ”
