No, it certainly is not.... My life has not been different in any
respect from the lives of numbers of other people. The parental home,
the university, the government service in the lower grades, retirement,
a little circle of friends, decent poverty, modest pleasures,
unambitious pursuits, moderate desires--kindly tell me, is that new to
any one? And so I will not tell the story of my life, especially as I
am writing for my own pleasure; and if my past does not afford even me
any sensation of great pleasure or great pain, it must be that there is
nothing in it deserving of attention. I had better try to describe my
own character to myself. What manner of man am I?... It may be observed
that no one asks me that question--admitted. But there, I'm dying, by
Jove!--I'm dying, and at the point of death I really think one may be
excused a desire to find out what sort of a queer fish one really was
after all.

Thinking over this important question, and having, moreover, no need
whatever to be too bitter in my expressions in regard to myself, as
people are apt to be who have a strong conviction of their valuable
qualities, I must admit one thing. I was a man, or perhaps I should say
a fish, utterly superfluous in this world. And that I propose to show
to-morrow, as I keep coughing to-day like an old sheep, and my nurse,
Terentyevna, gives me no peace: 'Lie down, my good sir,' she says, 'and
drink a little tea.'... I know why she keeps on at me: she wants some
tea herself. Well! she's welcome! Why not let the poor old woman
extract the utmost benefit she can from her master at the last ... as
long as there is still the chance?


_March_ 23.