the result of his life, namely, that actually present he, Ivan Il'ich, than everything that had seemed so pleasant thawed away before his very eyes and turned into nothingness, a nothingness that was sometimes odious.
And the further away he got from his childhood, and the nearer he drew to the present time, the more insignificant and doubtful this pleasantness became. This began from the time that he was a law student. Then, indeed, there was still something that was really good; then there was gaiety, then there was friendship, then there were hopes. But in the higher classes these good moments became rarer and rarer. Afterwards, in the time of his first service at the Governor's, there were again some good moments; these were the recollections of his love for his wife. Afterwards all this was mixed up, and there was still less of good in it. Still further on there was still less of good, and the further he went on the less of good he found.
Then came his marriage—and disillusionment so unexpectedly . . . and the sensuality of it and the hypocrisy! And this dead officialism, and this care about money, and then a year of it, and two years of it, and ten, and twenty—and always the same old thing over again! And the further it went on the more it savoured of death. "And I going downhill so nonchalantly, imagining all the time that I was going uphill. And so it was. According to the general opinion I was going uphill, and all the time life was just as much vanishing from beneath me. And now I am ready. Let me die!
