Then it appeared to Foma that that man
loved nothing, that nothing was firmly rooted within him, that
nothing guided him. Only when speaking of himself he talked in a
rather peculiar voice, and the more impassioned he was in
speaking of himself, the more merciless and enraged was he in
reviling everything and everybody. And his relation toward Foma
was dual; sometimes he gave him courage and spoke to him hotly,
quivering in every limb.
"Go ahead! Refute and overthrow everything you can! Push forward
with all your might. There is nothing more valuable than man,
know this! Cry at the top of your voice: 'Freedom! Freedom!"
But when Foma, warmed up by the glowing sparks of these words,
began to dream of how he should start to refute and overthrow
people who, for the sake of personal profit, do not want to
broaden life, Yozhov would often cut him short:
"Drop it! You cannot do anything! People like you are not needed.
Your time, the time of the strong but not clever, is past, my
dear! You are too late! There is no place for you in life.
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