It is, as a Life Artist, a big
sorrow to realize what you are.
But not to realize it is the
greatest sorrow.
And then death becomes terrible,
as Tolstoy has depicted it in Ivan
Iljitsch´ Death.
Ivan Ilyich is lying in the
deathbed and can´t let go of life because of mortal dread.
He screams three days and
nights through.
Not until he realizes, that
the life he'd lived, hadn´t been an actual life, yes, that he in fact never has
lived at all, not until then he can let go of life, and reconcile himself with
death.
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