The words uttered by the peasant had acted on his soul like an electric shock, suddenly transforming and combining into a single whole the whole swarm of disjointed, impotent, separate thoughts that incessantly occupied his mind. These thoughts had unconsciously been in his mind even when he was talking about the land.
Not living for his own wants, but for God? For what God? And could one say anything more senseless than what he said? He said that one must not live for ones own wants, that is, that one must not live for what we understand, what we are attracted by, what we desire, but must live for something incomprehensible, for God, whom no one can understand nor even define. What of it? Didnt I understand those senseless words of Fyodors? And understanding them, did I doubt of their truth? Did I think them stupid, obscure, inexact? No, I understood him, and exactly as he understands the words. I understood them more fully and clearly than I understand anything in life, and never in my life have I doubted nor can I doubt about it.
And I looked out for miracles, complained that I did not see a miracle which would convince me. A material miracle would have persuaded me. And here is a miracle, the sole miracle possible, continually existing, surrounding me on all sides, and I never noticed it!
Fyodor says that Kirillov lives for his belly. Thats comprehensible and rational. All of us as rational beings cant do anything else but live for our belly. And all of a sudden the same Fyodor says that one mustnt live for ones belly, but must live for truth, for God, and at a hint I understand him! And I and millions of men, men who lived ages ago and men living nowpeasants, the poor in spirit and the learned, who have thought and written about it, in their obscure words saying the same thingwe are all agreed about this one thing: what we must live for and what is good. I and all men have only one firm, incontestable, clear knowledge, and that knowledge cannot be explained by the reasonit is outside it, and has no causes and can have no effects.
Can I have found the solution of it all? can my sufferings be over? thought Levin, striding along the dusty road, not noticing the heat nor his weariness, and experiencing a sense of relief from prolonged suffering. This feeling was so delicious that it seemed to him incredible. He was breathless with emotion and incapable of going farther; he turned off the road into the forest and lay down in the shade of an aspen on the uncut grass. He took his hat off his hot head and lay propped on his elbow in the lush, feathery, woodland grass.
Yes, I must make it clear to myself and understand, he thought, looking intently at the untrampled grass before him, and following the movements of a green beetle, advancing along a blade of couch-grass and lifting up in its progress a leaf of goat-weed. What have I discovered? he asked himself, bending aside the leaf of goat-weed out of the beetles way and twisting another blade of grass above for the beetle to cross over on to it. What is it makes me glad? What have I discovered?
I have discovered nothing. I have only found out what I knew. I understand the force that in the past gave me life, and now too gives me life. I have been set free from falsity, I have found the Master.
Of old I used to say that in my body, that in the body of this grass and of this beetle (there, she didnt care for the grass, shes opened her wings and flown away), there was going on a transformation of matter in accordance with physical, chemical, and physiological laws. And in all of us, as well as in the aspens and the clouds and the misty patches, there was a process of evolution. Evolution from what? into what?Eternal evolution and struggle. As though there could be any sort of tendency and struggle in the eternal! And I was astonished that in spite of the utmost effort of thought along that road I could not discover the meaning of life, the meaning of my impulses and yearnings. Now I say that I know the meaning of my life: To live for God, for my soul. And this meaning, in spite of its clearness, is mysterious and marvellous. Such, indeed, is the meaning of everything existing. Yes, pride, he said to himself, turning over on his stomach and beginning to tie a noose of blades of grass, trying not to break them.
And not merely pride of intellect, but dulness of intellect. And most of all, the deceitfulness; yes, the deceitfulness of intellect. The cheating knavishness of intellect, thats it, he said to himself.
And he briefly went through, mentally, the whole course of his ideas during the last two years, the beginning of which was the clear confronting of death at the sight of his dear brother hopelessly ill.
Then, for the first time, grasping that for every man, and himself too, there was nothing in store but suffering, death, and forgetfulness, he had made up his mind that life was impossible like that, and that he must either interpret life so that it would not present itself to him as the evil jest of some devil, or shoot himself.
But he had not done either, but had gone on living, thinking, and feeling, and had even at that very time married, and had had many joys and had been happy, when he was not thinking of the meaning of his life.
He had lived (without being aware of it) on those spiritual truths that he had sucked in with his mothers milk, but he had thought, not merely without recognition of these truths, but studiously ignoring them.
What should I have been, and how should I have spent my life, if I had not had these beliefs, if I had not known that I must live for God and not for my own desires? I should have robbed and lied and killed. Nothing of what makes the chief happiness of my life would have existed for me. And with the utmost stretch of imagination he could not conceive the brutal creature he would have been himself, if he had not known what he was living for.
I looked for an answer to my question. And thought could not give an answer to my questionit is incommensurable with my question. The answer has been given me by life itself, in my knowledge of what is right and what is wrong. And that knowledge I did not arrive at in any way, it was given to me as to all men, given, because I could not have got it from anywhere.
Where could I have got it? By reason could I have arrived at knowing that I must love my neighbour and not oppress him? I was told that in my childhood, and I believed it gladly, for they told me what was already in my soul. But who discovered it? Not reason. Reason discovered the struggle for existence, and the law that requires us to oppress all who hinder the satisfaction of our desires. That is the deduction of reason. But loving ones neighbour reason could never discover, because its irrational.