This is a special kind of armor which not only protects the man himself, but also makes him dangerous to others.  It is clear that he who does not spare himself will not spare others.  Even God’s commandment does not say:  “Love thy neighbor more than thyself.”  It does not follow that I mean to cut somebody’s throat one of these days.  What I said has merely a theoretical bearing upon life in general; nobody will be any the worse for it; for if indifference diminishes altruism, it also lessens egoism.  If I were to sleep with my neighbor under the, same cloak, I should not surrender it altogether; neither should I take it all to myself.

Dangerous, and even very dangerous, such a man as I am may become when at length he is aroused from his lethargy, drawn forth from the seclusion of his egotism, and forced into definite action.  He then acquires the precision of motion, and also the merciless power, of an engine, I have gained that mechanical power.  For some time I have noticed that I impress others by my way of thinking and my will more strongly than formerly, though I have not sought it in the least.  The everlasting source of weakness is love of self, vanity, and coquetry in regard to others.  Almost unconsciously everybody tries to please, to gain sympathy; and towards that end often sacrifices his own opinions and convictions.  At present this coquetry, if not altogether gone, is greatly diminished; and the indifference as to whether I please or not gives me a kind of superiority over others.  I have noticed that during my travels, and especially now at Paris.  There are many here who at one time had an ascendency over me; now I have the ascendency, for the very reason that I care less for it.

In a general way I look upon myself as a man who could be energetic if he wished to exert himself; but the will acts in proportion to the passions, and mine are in the passive state.

As the habit of giving an account to myself for my thoughts and actions still remains with me, I explain in this way that in certain conditions of life we may as strongly desire not to live, as in others we should wish the contrary.  Most likely my indifference springs from this dislike of life.  It is this which renders it different from the apathy of such men as Davis.

It is quite certain that I have grown more independent than formerly, and might say with Hamlet that there is something dangerous in me.  Fortunately nobody crosses my path.  Everybody is as supremely indifferent and cool towards me as I am in regard to them.  Only my aunt in far-away Ploszow loves me as of old; but I suppose even her love has lost its active character, and there will be no more match-making in my behalf.

3 April.