impossible　to　go　back；　and　impossible　to　close　my　eyes　or　avoid
  seeing　that　there　was　nothing　ahead　but　suffering　and　real　death
  complete　annihilation。
  It　had　come　to　this；　that　I；　a　healthy；　fortunate　man；　felt　I
  could　no　longer　live：　some　irresistible　power　impelled　me　to　rid
  myself　one　way　or　other　of　life。　　I　cannot　say　I　*wished*　to　kill
  myself。　　The　power　which　drew　me　away　from　life　was　stronger；
  fuller；　and　more　widespread　than　any　mere　wish。　　It　was　a　force
  similar　to　the　former　striving　to　live；　only　in　a　contrary
  direction。　　All　my　strength　drew　me　away　from　life。　　The　thought　of
  self…destruction　now　came　to　me　as　naturally　as　thoughts　of　how　to
  improve　my　life　had　come　formerly。　　and　it　was　seductive　that　I　had
  to　be　cunning　with　myself　lest　I　should　carry　it　out　too　hastily。
  I　did　not　wish　to　hurry；　because　I　wanted　to　use　all　efforts　to
  disentangle　the　matter。　　〃If　I　cannot　unravel　matters；　there　will
  always　be　time。〃　　and　it　was　then　that　I；　a　man　favoured　by
  fortune；　hid　a　cord　from　myself　lest　I　should　hang　myself　from　the
  crosspiece　of　the　partition　in　my　room　where　I　undressed　alone
  every　evening；　and　I　ceased　to　go　out　shooting　with　a　gun　lest　I
  should　be　tempted　by　so　easy　a　way　of　ending　my　life。　　I　did　not
  myself　know　what　I　wanted：　　I　feared　life；　desired　to　escape　from
  it；　yet　still　hoped　something　of　it。
  And　all　this　befell　me　at　a　time　when　all　around　me　I　had　what
  is　considered　complete　good　fortune。　　I　was　not　yet　fifty；　I　had　a
  good　wife　who　lived　me　and　whom　I　loved；　good　children；　and　a　large
  estate　which　without　much　effort　on　my　part　improved　and　increased。
  I　was　respected　by　my　relations　and　acquaintances　more　than　at　any
  previous　time。　　I　was　praised　by　others　and　without　much　self…
  deception　could　consider　that　my　name　was　famous。　　And　far　from
  being　insane　or　mentally　diseased；　I　enjoyed　on　the　contrary　a
  strength　of　mind　and　body　such　as　I　have　seldom　met　with　among　men
  of　my　kind；　physically　I　could　keep　up　with　the　peasants　at　mowing；
  and　mentally　I　could　work　for　eight　and　ten　hours　at　a　stretch
  without　experiencing　any　ill　results　from　such　exertion。　　And　in
  this　situation　I　came　to　this　　that　I　could　not　live；　and；
  fearing　death；　had　to　employ　cunning　with　myself　to　avoid　taking　my
  own　life。
  My　mental　condition　presented　itself　to　me　in　this　way：　　my
  life　is　a　stupid　and　spiteful　joke　someone　has　played　on　me。
  Though　I　did　not　acknowledge　a　〃someone〃　who　created　me；　yet　such
  a　presentation　　that　someone　had　played　an　evil　and　stupid　joke
  on　my　by　placing　me　in　the　world　　was　the　form　of　expression　that
  suggested　itself　most　naturally　to　me。
  Involuntarily　it　appeared　to　me　that　there；　somewhere；　was
  someone　who　amused　himself　by　watching　how　I　lived　for　thirty　or
  forty　years：　　learning；　developing；　maturing　in　body　and　mind；　and
  how；　having　with　matured　mental　powers　reached　the　summit　of　life
  from　which　it　all　lay　before　me；　I　stood　on　that　summit　　like　an
  arch…fool　　seeing　clearly　that　there　is　nothing　in　life；　and　that
  there　has　been　and　will　be　nothing。　　And　*he*　was　amused。　。。。
  But　whether　that　〃someone〃　laughing　at　me　existed　or　not；　I
  was　none　the　better　off。　　I　could　give　no　reasonable　meaning　to　any
  single　action　or　to　my　whole　life。　　I　was　only　surprised　that　I
  could　have　avoided　understanding　this　from　the　very　beginning　　it
  has　been　so　long　known　to　all。　　Today　or　tomorrow　sickness　and
  death　will　come　（they　had　come　already）　to　those　I　love　or　to　me；
  nothing　will　remain　but　stench　and　worms。　　Sooner　or　later　my
  affairs；　whatever　they　may　be；　will　be　forgotten；　and　I　shall　not
  exist。　　Then　why　go　on　making　any　effort？　。。。　How　can　man　fail　to
  see　this？　　And　how　go　on　living？　　That　is　what　is　surprising！　　One
  can　only　live　while　one　is　intoxicated　with　life；　as　soon　as　one　is
  sober　it　is　impossible　not　to　see　that　it　is　all　a　mere　fraud　and
  a　stupid　fraud！　　That　is　precisely　what　it　is：　　there　is　nothing
  either　amusing　or　witty　about　it；　it　is　simply　cruel　and　stupid。
  There　is　an　Eastern　fable；　told　long　ago；　of　a　traveller
  overtaken　on　a　plain　by　an　enraged　beast。　　Escaping　from　the　beast
  he　gets　into　a　dry　well；　but　sees　at　the　bottom　of　the　well　a
  dragon　that　has　opened　its　jaws　to　swallow　him。　　And　the
  unfortunate　man；　not　daring　to　climb　out　lest　he　should　be
  destroyed　by　the　enraged　beast；　and　not　daring　to　leap　to　the
  bottom　of　the　well　lest　he　should　be　eaten　by　the　dragon；　seizes　s
  twig　growing　in　a　crack　in　the　well　and　clings　to　it。　　His　hands
  are　growing　weaker　and　he　feels　he　will　soon　have　to　resign　himself
  to　the　destruction　that　awaits　him　above　or　below；　but　still　he
  clings　on。　　Then　he　sees　that　two　mice；　a　black　one　and　a　white
  one；　go　regularly　round　and　round　the　stem　of　the　twig　to　which　he
  is　clinging　and　gnaw　at　it。　　And　soon　the　twig　itself　will　snap　and
  he　will　fall　into　the　dragon's　jaws。　　The　traveller　sees　this　and
  knows　that　he　will　inevitably　perish；　but　while　still　hanging　he
  looks　around；　sees　some　drops　of　honey　on　the　leaves　of　the　twig；
  reaches　them　with　his　tongue　and　licks　them。　　So　I　too　clung　to　the
  twig　of　life；　knowing　that　the　dragon　of　death　was　inevitably
  awaiting　me；　ready　to　tear　me　to　pieces；　and　I　could　not　understand
  why　I　had　fallen　into　such　torment。　　I　tried　to　lick　the　honey
  which　formerly　consoled　me；　but　the　honey　no　longer　gave　me
  pleasure；　and　the　white　and　black　mice　of　day　and　night　gnawed　at
  the　branch　by　which　I　hung。　　I　saw　the　dragon　clearly　and　the　honey
  no　longer　tasted　sweet。　　I　only　saw　the　unescapable　dragon　and　the
  mice；　and　I　could　not　tear　my　gaze　from　them。　　and　this　is　not　a
  fable　but　the　real　unanswerable　truth　intelligible　to　all。
  The　deception　of　the　joys　of　life　which　formerly　allayed　my
  terror　of　the　dragon　now　no　longer　deceived　me。　　No　matter　how
  often　I　may　be　told；　〃You　cannot　understand　the　meaning　of　life　so
  do　not　think　about　it；　but　live；〃　I　can　no　longer　do　it：　I　have
  already　done　it　too　long。　　I　cannot　now　help　seeing　day　and　night
  going　round　and　bringing　me　to　death。　　That　is　all　I　see；　for　that
  alone　is　true。　　All　else　is　false。
  The　two　drops　of　honey　which　diverted　my　eyes　from　the　cruel
  truth　longer　than　the　rest：　my　love　of　family；　and　of　writing
  art　as　I　called　it　　were　no　longer　sweet　to　me。
  〃Family〃。。。said　I　to　myself。　　But　my　family　　wife　and
  children　　are　also　human。　　They　are　placed　just　as　I　am：　they
  must　either　live　in　a　lie　or　see　the　terrible　truth。　　Why　should
  they　live？　　Why　should　I　love　them；　guard　them；　bring　them　up；　or
  watch　them？　　That　they　may　come　to　the　despair　that　I　feel；　or　else
  be　stupid？　　Loving　them；　I　cannot　hide　the　truth　from　them：　each
  step　in　knowledge　leads　them　to　the　truth。　　And　the　truth　is　death。
  〃Art；　poetry？〃。。。Under　the　influence　of　success　and　the　praise
  of　men；　I　had　long　assured　myself　that　this　was　a　thing　one　could
  do　though　death　was　drawing　near　　death　which　destroys　all
  things；　including　my　work　and　its　remembrance；　but　soon　I　saw　that
  that　too　was　a　fraud。　　It　was　plain　to　me　that　art　is　an　adornment
  of　life；　an　allurement　to　life。　　But　life　had　lost　its　attraction
  for　me；　so　how　could　I　attract　others？　　As　long　as　I　was　not　living
  my　own　life　but　was　borne　on　the　waves　of　some　other　life　　as
  long　as　I　believed　that　life　had　a　meaning；　though　one　I　could　not
  express　　the　reflection　of　life　in　poetry　and　art　of　all　kinds
  afforded　me　pleasure：　　it　was　pleasant　to　look　at　life　in　the
  mirror　of　art。　　But　when　I　began　to　seek　the　meaning　of　life　and
  felt　the　necessity　of　living　my　own　life；　that　mirror　became　for　me
  unnecessary；　superfluous；　ridiculous；　or　painful。　　I　could　no
  longer　soothe　myself　with　what　I　now　saw　in　the　mirror；　namely；
  that　my　position　was　stupid　and　desperate。　　It　was　all　very　well　to
  enjoy　the　sight　when　in　the　depth　of　my　soul　I　believed　that　my
  life　had　a　meaning。　　Then　the　play　of　lights　　comic；　tragic；
  touching；　beautiful；　and　terrible　　in　life　amused　me。　　No
  sweetness　of　honey　could　be　sweet　to　me　when　I　saw　the　dragon　and
  saw　the　mice　gnawing　away　my　support。
  Nor　was　that　all。　　Had　I　simply　understood　that　life　had　no
  meaning　I　could　have　borne　it　quietly；　knowing　that　that　was　my
  lot。　　But　I　could　not　satisfy　myself　with　that。　　Had　I　been　like　a
  man　living　in　a　wood　from　which　he　knows　there　is　no　exit；　I　could
  have　lived；　but　I　was　like　one　lost　in　a　wood　who；　horrified　at
  having　lost　his　way；　rushes　about　wishing　to　find　the　road。　　He
  knows　that　each　step　he　takes　confuses　him　more　and　more；　but　still
  he　cannot　help　rushing　about。
  It　was　indeed　terrible。　　And　to　rid　myself　of　the　terror　I
  wished　to　kill　myself。　　I　experienced　terror　at　what　awaited　me
  knew　that　that　terror　was　even　worse　than　the　position　I　was　in；
  but　still　I　could　not　patiently　await　the　end。　　However　convincing
  the　argument　might　be　that　in　any　case　some　vessel　in　my　hea