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Tolstoy – Confessions
So I lived, but five years ago something strange manifested in me.
First it was the perplexity of time, stopping life, as if I did not know how to live, what to do, and I felt lost and I fell into despondency. But it passed and I continued to live as before.
Then these moments of perplexity ever renewed often in the same form.
These judgments of life are always manifested by the same questions:
--What for?
--and What next?
It seemed at first that these worries were pointless. It seemed to me the answers were already known and that, if I one day wanted to find their solution, it would be very easy, it just needed the time to do it.
But questions began to repeat themselves ever more often; they were more and more imperative. The answers were required and these issues, unanswered ,falling as points still on the same spot,
accumulated into a large black spot.
It happened on the way a disease progresses.
First symptoms appear insignificant, malaise which the patient does not pay attention to; then these symptoms are repeated more and more and eventually accumulate into one continuous suffering. Suffering grows, and before the patient has time to recognize it, he understands that what he took for discomfort is what for him was the most important in the world, Death.
The same thing happened to me.
I understood that this was not an accidental discomfort, but something very serious and that if the same questions are always repeated, one has to respond.
And I was trying to do.
The questions seemed at first so absurd, so simple, so childish. But the moment I touched one and I tried to resolve it, I was instantly convinced that these were not childish questions or foolish, but
the most serious and profound questions of life.