I'd say, where are Gladys and Dori? They were leaving some info and replies to the forum, but it seems as though we haven't heard from them of late. Where are you, Gladys, Dori?
I'd say, where are Gladys and Dori? They were leaving some info and replies to the forum, but it seems as though we haven't heard from them of late. Where are you, Gladys, Dori?
Why, the whole point, the real sting of it lay in the fact that continually, even in the moment of the acutest spleen, I was inwardly conscious with shame that I was not a spiteful. I am a sicker man! I might foam at the mouth, but bring me a doll to play with, bring me a cup of tea with sugar in it, and maybe I will be appeased! I might even genuinely be touched, though probably I should grind my teeth at myself afterward and lie awake at night with shame for months after. That is my way.
I have checked out the discussions daily; however, I have little time to do much else. Finishing the book is a top priority right now, and my school work has seemingly prevented me from doing so.
I also have SATs this Saturday. Ugh.
I will post more soon, I hope.
com-pas-sion (n.) [ME. & OFr. <LL. (Ec.) compassio, sympathy < compassus, pp. of compati, to feel pity < L. com-, together + pali, to suffer] sorrow for the sufferings or trouble of another or others, accompanied by an urge to help; deep sympathy; pity
Dostoevsky Forum!
I apologize, Lori and Gladys. I forgot all about the time difference, and I was not aware that others have things to do well beyond the posting on the forum. Please accept my sincere apology!
Why, the whole point, the real sting of it lay in the fact that continually, even in the moment of the acutest spleen, I was inwardly conscious with shame that I was not a spiteful. I am a sicker man! I might foam at the mouth, but bring me a doll to play with, bring me a cup of tea with sugar in it, and maybe I will be appeased! I might even genuinely be touched, though probably I should grind my teeth at myself afterward and lie awake at night with shame for months after. That is my way.
No worries, mea505!
Though, you did spell my name wrong in your apology.
com-pas-sion (n.) [ME. & OFr. <LL. (Ec.) compassio, sympathy < compassus, pp. of compati, to feel pity < L. com-, together + pali, to suffer] sorrow for the sufferings or trouble of another or others, accompanied by an urge to help; deep sympathy; pity
Dostoevsky Forum!
Sorry, Dori! I hit the "L," instead of the "D," even though they are on the opposite sides of the keyboard.
Why, the whole point, the real sting of it lay in the fact that continually, even in the moment of the acutest spleen, I was inwardly conscious with shame that I was not a spiteful. I am a sicker man! I might foam at the mouth, but bring me a doll to play with, bring me a cup of tea with sugar in it, and maybe I will be appeased! I might even genuinely be touched, though probably I should grind my teeth at myself afterward and lie awake at night with shame for months after. That is my way.
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Maybe you could send them a PM?
