" And if I die sometime – I’m going to die very soon – I know I’ll die as I am,
without accepting this world, perceiving it close up and far away, inside and out,
perceiving but not accepting it. I’ll die and He will ask me: “Was it good there for
you? Was it bad there for you?” I will be silent, with lowered eyes. I’ll be silent
that muteness familiar to everyone who knows the outcome of days of hard
boozing. For isn’t the life of man a momentary boozing of the soul? And an eclipse
of the soul as well? We are all as if drunk, only everybody in his own way: one
person has drunk more, the next less. And it works differently on each: the one
laughs in the face of this world, while the next cries on its bosom. One has already
thrown up and feels better, while the next is only starting of feel like throwing up.
But me, what am I? I’ve partaken of much, but nothing works on me. I haven’t
really laughed properly, even once, and I’ve never thrown up, even once. I, who
have partaken of so much in this world that I’ve lost count and the sequence of it
all, I am soberer than anyone else in this world; "

― Venedikt Erofeev