The greater the power, the more dreadful is its application
Katerina never cared for me! She knew all the time I loved her, though I never said a word to her about my love - she knew, but she did not care for me. Neither have I been her friend - not once, not for a single day: she’s a proud woman and did not need my friendship. She kept me at her side out of a constant desire for revenge. She revenged herself on me and with me for all the insults which she continually had to bear all the time from Dimitry, ever since their first meeting. For even the memory of their very first meeting remained in her heart as an insult. That’s what her heart is like! All I heard from her was about her love for him. I’m going away now, but I’d like you to know, Katerina, that you really love only him. And the more insults he heaps on you, the more you love him. That is your heartache. You love him just as he is. You love him even while he insults you. If he reformed, you’d at once throw him over and fall out of love with him entirely. But you need him in order to be able to contemplate continually your great act of faithfulness and reproach him for his unfaithfulness. And all this because of your pride… Oh, there’s a lot here of humiliation and humility, but it’s all because of your pride… I’m too young and I loved you too much. I know that I shouldn’t have told you that, that it would have been more dignified of me just to leave you. It would have not been so offensive to you. But then I’m going far away and I shall never come back. It’s for good… I do not wish to stay beside a woman suffering from heartache… However, I don’t know what more I could say. I’ve said everything… Good-bye Katerina. You mustn’t be angry with me, because I’ve been punished a hundred times more than you: punished for the very fact that I shall never see you again. Good-bye. I don’t want your hand. You’ve tortured me too deliberately for me to forgive you now. I shall forgive you later, but I don’t want your hand now.
Miusov had a high opinion of himself as a man who could judge a person merely by looking at him. It was an excusable weakness, considering that he was fifty, an age at which an intelligent man of the world of independent means always acquires a great respect for his own judgement, sometimes, indeed, quite involuntarily.
Intellectual contempt does not control personal envy.
It was the unspeakable that left him speechless
Because his main interests were in things and ideas rather than in people, he was often alone. But he craved for affection and companionship - too strongly, perhaps, to make the first stages of friendship easy for him…
Robin Gandy on Alan Turing
Run at least one half marathon
Buy a flat
Eat more fruit
Whatever you think, is.
Alan M. Turing
A brief definition of Investment Banker
I just read this slightly harsh but mostly true definition of investment bankers, in the context of the bonus culture and the sense of entitlement which shows no sign of disappearing.
"Investment bankers are neither entrepreneurs nor business creators but mercenaries selling their often flawed services".
It struck me that perhaps a lot of the people you see walking about are dead. We say that a man’s dead when his heart stops and not before. It seems a bit arbitrary. After all, parts of your body don’t stop working - hair goes on growing for years, for instance. Perhaps a man really dies when his brain stops, when he loses the power to take in a new idea. Old Porteous is like that. Wonderfully learned, wonderfully good taste - but he’s not capable of change. Just says the same things and think the same thoughts over and over again. There are a lot of people like that. Dead minds, stopped inside. Just keep moving backwards and forwards on the same little track, getting fainter all the time, like ghosts.