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…It seems to me that if he had badly wanted a drink of vodka, and could not have obtained it otherwise than by cutting someone’s throat, he would certainly have cut it, provided it could have been done on the quiet, so that nobody knew. He learned calculation in prison.

[about A__v, who toadyed to the major]
I had occasion to learn something of his soul: his cynicism reached the point of outrageous insolence, of the coldest mockery, and aroused an insurmountable loathing…

…and sometimes even blessed my fate for having sent me this solitude…

…rejoiced that it was no longer a thousand, but nine hundred and ninety-nine. I remember that in all that time, despite having hundreds of fellow prisoners, I was in terrible solitude, and I finally came to love that solitude. Spiritually alone, I revisited all my past life, went through everything down to the smallest detail, pondered my past, judged myself alone strictly and implacably…

I remember that those long, boring days were as monotonous as rainwater dripping from the roof drop by drop. I remember that only the passionate desire for resurrection, renewal, a new life, gave me strength to wait and hope…I counted off each day, and, though there were a thousand left, I counted each one off with delight, bade farewell to it, buried it, and, with the coming of the new day…

[About the major they called Eight-eyes, after he was forced to resign] “But all his fascination went away as soon as he took off his uniform. In uniform he was a terror, a god. In a frock coat he suddenly became a complete nothing and smacked of the lackey.”

But towards the end, with the years it all somehow started to concentrate inside him, in his heart. The coals were covering over with ashes.

J’adore sa description des bains, du théâtre et de l’hôpital, c’est vraiment passionnant d’observer toute la réalité dans toute sa complexité de la vie de bagne