Leo Tolstoy,
A Confession (Maude's translation…
(1882)
“ Not twice or three times, but tens and hundreds of times, I reached those conditions, first of joy and animation, and then of despair and consciousness of the impossibility of living.I remember that it was in early spring: I was alone in the wood listening to its sounds. I listened and thought ever of the same thing, as I had constantly done during those last three years. I was again seeking God.'Very well, there is no God', said I to myself; 'there is no one who is not my imagination but a reality like my whole life. ”
