You have heard your sentence. So you see, you'll have to get used to going on listening to the radio music of life. It will do you good. You are uncommonly lacking in talent, my dear stupid chap, but by now I suppose even you have gradually realized what is being asked of you. You are to learn to laugh, that's what is being asked of you. You are to understand life's humour, the gallows humour of this life. But of course you are prepared to do anything on earth other than what is asked of you. You are prepared to stab girls to death; you are prepared to have yourself solemnly executed; you would no doubt also be prepared to spend a hundred years mortifying your flesh and scourging yourself. Or am I wrong? 'No! With all my heart I'd be prepared to do so,' I cried in my despair. Naturally! There isn't a single stupid and humourless activity, anything pompous, serious and devoid of wit, that doesn't appeal to you! But, you see, nothing of that sort appeals to me. I don't give a fig for all your romantic desire to do penance. You must be berserk, wanting to be executed and have your head chopped off! You'd commit another ten murders to achieve this stupid ideal of yours. You want to die, you coward, but not to live. But to go on living, damn it, is precisely what you will have to do.