And without fear the lawless roads Ran wrong through all the land.

We meet ourselves at every turn In the long country of the past.

Packed in my skin from head to toe is one I know and do not know.

Kindness and courage can repair time's faults, And serving him breeds patience and courtesy In us, light sojourners and passing subjects.

And without fear the lawless roads Ran wrong through all the land.

There is a road that turning always Cuts off the country of Again. Archers stand there on every side And as it runstime's deer is slain, And lies where it has lain.

Dostoyevsky wrote of the unconscious as if it were conscious; that is in reality the reason why his characters seem 'pathological', while they are only visualized more clearly than any other figures in imaginative literature... He was in the rank in which we set Dante, Shakespeare and Goethe.