"I may die soon, and then no one will remember me, and no person will stand by my grave. Some who knew me will say: He was noble and kind, while others will declare: He was a vile wretch. My page in the book of life will be turned, leaving no trace of my existence. Life will continue as it always has, unchanged by my departure. The sun will still rise every morning and set every evening, the only difference being my absence.

Thus, I have spent my entire life in anxiety and doubt, fearful of what has happened and what is to come, forgetting myself and preoccupied with the words of others."

— Fyodor Dostoevsky