25
" Beside himself with shame and despair, the utterly ruined though perfectly just Mr. Golyadkin dashed headlong away, wherever fate might lead him; but with every step he took, with every thud of his foot on the granite of the pavement, there leapt up as though out of the earth a Mr. Golyadkin precisely the same, perfectly alike, and of a revolting depravity of heart. And all these precisely similar Golyadkins set to running after one another as soon as they appeared, and stretched in a long chain like a file of geese, hobbling after the real Mr. Golyadkin, so there was nowhere to escape from these duplicates — so that Mr. Golyadkin, who was in every way deserving of compassion, was breathless with terror; so that at last a terrible multitude of duplicates had sprung into being; so that the whole town was obstructed at last by duplicate Golyadkins, and the police officer, seeing such a breach of decorum, was obliged to seize all these duplicates by the collar and to put them into the watch-house, which happened to be beside him . . . Numb and chill with horror, our hero woke up, and numb and chill with horror felt that his waking state was hardly more cheerful . . . It was oppressive and harrowing . . . He was overcome by such anguish that it seemed as though some one were gnawing at his heart. "
― Fyodor Dostoevsky , The Double
27
" The first days of January 1942 brought enormous amounts of snow. The reader already knows what snow meant for the clergy. But this time the torture surpassed the bounds of the endurable. At the same time the thermometer hovered between 5 and 15 degrees below zero. From morning till night we scraped, shoveled, and pushed wheelbarrow after wheelbarrow of snow to the brook. The work detail consisted of more than 1,000 clergymen, forced to keep moving by SS men and Capos who kicked us and beat us with truncheons.
We had to make rounds with the wheelbarrows from the assembly square to the brook and back. Not a moment of rest was allowed, and much of the time we were forced to run.
At one point I tripped over my barrow and fell, and it took me a while to get up again. An SS man dashed over and ordered me to turn with the full load. He ran beside me, beating me constantly with a leather strap. When I got to the brook I was not allowed to dump out the heavy snow, but had to make a second complete round with it instead.
When the guard finally went off and I tried to let go of the wheelbarrow, I found that one of my hands was frozen fast to it. I had to blow on it with warm breath to get it free. "
― Jean Bernard , Priestblock 25487: a Memoir of Dachau
28
" DICK’S DESIRE
Dick's eyes-
Soft, cold, and blue-
Meet Devonshire's-
Dark, sexy, and yearning.
Turning away-
Dick grabs two packets of sugar-
While Devonshire's eyes-
Are still upon him-
Pondering his every move.
Is Dick a playboy,
A ladies' man,
A mans' man,
Or a killer?
Does his sex long for,
Something hard-
Or something soft?
Does he need cream in his coffee-
The screaming splash of a man,
Or the sweet flow of a woman?
Finishing up at the bar-
Dick turns to leave-
Meets Devonshire's gaze again-
Hot, thirsty, and longing-
But full of trepidation.
Following the flow of etiquette-
Dick shoots out of the cafe,
Past Devonshire,
And into a world of dashed hopes,
And regrets.
But Devonshire-
No longer of two worlds-
Rises in pursuit-
Goes after Dick,
And taps him on the shoulder.
Dick gives a turn,
Raises his shoulders,
And smiles with interest-
Taking Devonshire's hand,
And asking his name.
Devonshire answers-
Desire.
Dick invites Devonshire to dinner,
Where he eats everything,
Swallowing Dick's life stories,
And devouring his misgivings.
For dessert,
Devonshire takes Dick home,
Into his bed,
Against his flesh,
And gives Dick all of him-
His deepest desires,
The love in his eyes,
And the fire in his soul. "
― Giorge Leedy , Uninhibited From Lust To Love
37
" I tell you I must go!” I retorted, roused to something like passion. “Do you think I can stay to become nothing to you? Do you think I am an automaton?—a machine without feelings? and can bear to have my morsel of bread snatched from my lips, and my drop of living water dashed from my cup? Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong!—I have as much soul as you,—and full as much heart! And if God had gifted me with some beauty and much wealth, I should have made it as hard for you to leave me, as it is now for me to leave you. I am not talking to you now through the medium of custom, conventionalities, nor even of mortal flesh;—it is my spirit that addresses your spirit; just as if both had passed through the grave, and we stood at God’s feet, equal,—as we are! "
― Charlotte Brontë , Jane Eyre
