Summary

Lev Tolstoy Posthumous notes of hermit Fëdor Kuzmích

I remember that in my childish, five-year-old soul the questions, What is death? and, What is life which ends in death? then arose in their full significance – those chief questions which confront all mankind and to which the wise seek and find replies, and which the frivolous try to thrust aside and forget. I did what was natural for a child, especially in the world in which I lived: I put the question aside, forgot about death, lived as if it did not exist, and have lived till it has become terrible to me.
Source: Wikisource

Lev Tolstoy Posthumous notes of hermit Fëdor Kuzmích

It happened one evening at Tsárskoe Seló, in grandmother’s presence. Sophia Ivánovna had just brought us in after dinner and was smilingly saying something, when her face suddenly became grave, she reeled, leant against the door, slipped, and fell heavily. People came running in and we were taken away. But next day we learnt that she was dead. I cried for a long time and was depressed and not myself. Everybody thought I was crying about Sophia Ivánovna, but it was not for her that I cried, but that people should die – that death should exist.
Source: Wikisource

Lev Tolstoy Posthumous notes of hermit Fëdor Kuzmích

But having considered it I suddenly saw that it really is so; that it is in this alone, in the approaching toward death, is the only reasonable wish a man can have. A wish not for death itself, but for the movement of life which leads to death. That movement consists in a release of that spiritual element which dwells in every man from passions and temptations.
Source: Wikisource

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