O LCB

“Mientras recorríamos las calles de la Ciudad de México recordé cómo eran la primera vez que las vi, la terracería, el polvo; y ahora el drenaje, el alumbrado, los caminos pavimentados, los edificios como carbones negros iluminados por los faroles con electricidad, los templos coloniales; el pasado y el futuro mezclados en un presente incierto. Los faros de acetileno alumbraban el camino. Pasamos una última vez por el Palacio de Gobierno y la Catedral. Me hubiera gustado tener tiempo para cambiarme de ropa.”
― Pedro J. Fernández, Yo, Díaz

“In the case of torture, one suffers pains and wounds, and the body endures cruelly, but at the same time, it distracts from the spiritual suffering, so that one only laments over their wounds, and so it goes until the very moment of death. But surely the most terrible, most intense pain is not that of the wounds, but the pain of knowing with absolute certainty that in an hour, then in ten minutes, then in half a minute, and then right now, in that precise moment, the soul will leave the body, and one will cease to be a man, and all of that is certain: that is the most important thing, that one knows it for certain. When one places their head under the blade and hears it grind above them, the truth is that that quarter of a second is the most terrifying thing that can exist.

An executioner imposed by a sentence is infinitely more horrifying than a murder committed by a criminal.”
― Dostoevsky, The Idiot

“He had at most five minutes of life left. He said that those five minutes were an endless deadline, a colossal wealth. It seemed to him that he lived so many lives in those five minutes that he had no time to think about the final moment, and he even had to attend to different matters. He calculated the time necessary to say goodbye to his comrades and set aside a couple of minutes for that purpose. Then he allotted another two minutes to think about himself one last time and to look around one last time.

After bidding farewell to his comrades, those two minutes he had reserved for thinking about himself arrived. He already knew in advance what he would think about: he wanted to imagine, as soon as possible and with utmost clarity, what he could become. At that moment, he existed and lived, and three minutes later he would be someone or something, but who? And where? He believed he would find the answer to all of that in those two minutes!

Oh, if only he wouldn't die! If life could be restored to him! What eternity it would be! And all for himself! In that case, he would turn every minute into a whole century, without losing a single one, he would savor each moment and not waste anything! He said that this idea eventually degenerated into such rage that he wished to be executed as soon as possible.”
― Dostoevsky, The Idiot

“There is no tenderness in you; there is only justice, and therefore, it is unjust.”
― Dostoevsky, The Idiot