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Fyodor Dostoevsky
Remember only that I smiled. I do not atone-nor sacrifice-nor wish for glory; and I have nothing to forgive. I thirsted-and I besought you to give me my blood to drink. For what is there can quench a madman’s thirst but his own blood? I was dumb-and I asked wounds of you for mouths. I was imprisoned in your days and nights-and I sought a door into larger days and nights. And now I go-as others already crucified have gone. And think not we are weary of crucifixion. For we must be crucified by larger and yet larger men, between greater earths and greater heavens.
topics: crucifixion  
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