How we cite our quotes: (Part.Chapter.Paragraph)
Quote #4
[Mrs. Epanchin yelled:] "But even supposing that your mother is a fool, you are none the less, bound to treat her with humanity. Why did you come here tonight so insolently? 'Give us our rights, but don't dare to speak in our presence. Show us every mark of deepest respect, while we treat you like the scum of the earth.' The miscreants have written a tissue of calumny in their article, and these are the men who seek for truth, and do battle for the right! 'We do not beseech, we demand, you will get no thanks from us, because you will be acting to satisfy your own conscience!' What morality! But, good heavens! If you declare that the prince's generosity will excite no gratitude in you, he might answer that he is not bound to be grateful to Pavlichev, who also was only satisfying his own conscience. But you counted on the prince's gratitude towards Pavlichev; you never lent him any money; he owes you nothing; then what were you counting upon if not on his gratitude? And if you appeal to that sentiment in others, why should you expect to be exempted from it?" (2.9.46)
One of the main issues with nihilism and its rejection of standard morality is that it leaves no room for empathy or gratitude. This in a way makes any potential sacrifice or altruistic action a selfish or self-interested one.
Quote #5
The prince did not notice that others were talking and making themselves agreeable to Aglaya; in fact, at moments, he almost forgot that he was sitting by her himself. At other moments he felt a longing to go away somewhere and be alone with his thoughts, and to feel that no one knew where he was.
Or if that were impossible he would like to be alone at home, on the terrace-without either Lebedev or his children, or anyone else about him, and to lie there and think—a day and night and another day again! He thought of the mountains-and especially of a certain spot which he used to frequent, whence he would look down upon the distant valleys and fields, and see the waterfall, far off, like a little silver thread, and the old ruined castle in the distance. Oh how he longed to be there now—alone with his thoughts—to think of one thing all his life—one thing! A thousand years would not be too much time! And let everyone here forget him—forget him utterly! How much better it would have been if they had never known him—if all this could but prove to be a dream. Perhaps it was a dream! (3.2.60-61)
Myshkin has two strains of self-sacrificial thought. One is his dutiful and miserable commitment to Nastasya, which most of the novel deals with. But sometimes, he busts out with these little moments of wanting to just give up the life he knows and stop caring about any of the people in it—which is kind of what he gets in the end, right? So does this mean it's actually a "happy" ending? Or at least a wish-fulfilling one?
Quote #6
"Let us examine first the psychological and legal position of the criminal. We see that in spite of the difficulty of finding other food, the accused, or, as we may say, my client, has often during his peculiar life exhibited signs of repentance, and of wishing to give up this clerical diet. Incontrovertible facts prove this assertion. He has eaten five or six children, a relatively insignificant number, no doubt, but remarkable enough from another point of view. It is manifest that, pricked by remorse […]. This criminal ended at last by denouncing himself to the clergy, and giving himself up to justice. We cannot but ask, remembering the penal system of that day, and the tortures that awaited him—the wheel, the stake, the fire!—we cannot but ask, I repeat, what induced him to accuse himself of this crime? Why did he not simply stop short at the number sixty, and keep his secret until his last breath? Why could he not simply leave the monks alone, and go into the desert to repent? Or why not become a monk himself? That is where the puzzle comes in! There must have been something stronger than the stake or the fire, or even than the habits of twenty years! There must have been an idea more powerful than all the calamities and sorrows of this world, famine or torture, leprosy or plague—an idea which entered into the heart, directed and enlarged the springs of life, and made even that hell supportable to humanity!" (3.4.107)
What do you make of this argument about the dude who ate 60 monks and 6 kids? The claim here is that because he confesses his crime before anyone can accuse him of anything, and even though it means inevitable torture for him, shows that there is an internal morality that is more powerful than fear of death. Does Lebedev make his case successfully?