One cannot exist in prison without God; it's even more impossible than out of prison.
And then we men underground will sing from the bowels of the earth a glorious hymn to God, with Whom is joy.
Hail to God and His joy!
I love Him!"
Mitya was almost gasping for breath as he uttered his wild speech.
He turned pale, his lips quivered, and tears rolled down his cheeks.
"Yes, life is full, there is life even underground," he began again. "You wouldn't believe, Alexey, how I want to live now, what a thirst for existence and consciousness has sprung up in me within these peeling walls.
Rakitin doesn't understand that; all he cares about is building a house and letting flats. But I've been longing for you.
And what is suffering?
I am not afraid of it, even if it were beyond reckoning.
I am not afraid of it now. I was afraid of it before.
Do you know, perhaps I won't answer at the trial at all.... And I seem to have such strength in me now, that I think I could stand anything, any suffering, only to be able to say and to repeat to myself every moment, 'I exist.'
In thousands of agonies- I exist. I'm tormented on the rack- but I exist!
Though I sit alone on a pillar- I exist! I see the sun, and if I don't see the sun, I know it's there.
And there's a whole life in that, in knowing that the sun is there. Alyosha, my angel, all these philosophies are the death of me. Damn them!
Brother Ivan-"
"What of brother Ivan?" interrupted Alyosha, but Mitya did not hear.
"You see, I never had any of these doubts before, but it was all hidden away in me.
It was perhaps just because ideas I did not understand were surging up in me, that I used to drink and fight and rage.
It was to stifle them in myself, to still them, to smother them.
Ivan is not Rakitin, there is an idea in him.
Ivan is a sphinx and is silent; he is always silent.
It's God that's worrying me.
That's the only thing that's worrying me.
What if He doesn't exist?
What if Rakitin's right- that it's an idea made up by men?
Then if He doesn't exist, man is the chief of the earth, of the universe.
Magnificent!
Only how is he going to be good without God?
That's the question.
I always come back to that.
For whom is man going to love then?
To whom will he be thankful? To whom will he sing the hymn?
Rakitin laughs.
Rakitin says that one can love humanity without God.
Well, only a snivelling idiot can maintain that. I can't understand it.
Life's easy for Rakitin.
'You'd better think about the extension of civic rights, or even of keeping down the price of meat. You will show your love for humanity more simply and directly by that, than by philosophy.'
I answered him,
'Well, but you, without a God, are more likely to raise the price of meat, if it suits you, and make a rouble on every copeck.'
He lost his temper.
But after all, what is goodness? Answer me that, Alexey.
Goodness is one thing with me and another with a Chinaman, so it's a relative thing.
Or isn't it?
Is it not relative?
A treacherous question!
You won't laugh if I tell you it's kept me awake two nights.
I only wonder now how people can live and think nothing about it.
Vanity!
Ivan has no God.