{"id":"01KG8AN1KZQW1QYMHY0G0GRK8G","cid":"bafkreig5rymunbblqq2bue3d2qywdq7ur5acwcsnuwo2g7e4g3sjcsncc4","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":15117,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:52.924Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 3","source_file":"01KG89J1JSYKSGCE149MH9HF6A","start_line":15055,"text":"seemed intolerable to him, since he so plainly saw, that the brightest\r\nsuccess could not be the sole offspring of Merit; but of Merit for the\r\none thousandth part, and nine hundred and ninety-nine combining and\r\ndove-tailing accidents for the rest. So beforehand he despised those\r\nlaurels which in the very nature of things, can never be impartially\r\nbestowed. But while thus all the earth was depopulated of ambition for\r\nhim; still circumstances had put him in the attitude of an eager\r\ncontender for renown. So beforehand he felt the unrevealable sting of\r\nreceiving either plaudits or censures, equally unsought for, and\r\nequally loathed ere given. So, beforehand he felt the pyramidical scorn\r\nof the genuine loftiness for the whole infinite company of infinitesimal\r\ncritics. His was the scorn which thinks it not worth the while to be\r\nscornful. Those he most scorned, never knew it. In that lonely little\r\ncloset of his, Pierre foretasted all that this world hath either of\r\npraise or dispraise; and thus foretasting both goblets, anticipatingly\r\nhurled them both in its teeth. All panegyric, all denunciation, all\r\ncriticism of any sort, would come too late for Pierre.\r\n\r\nBut man does never give himself up thus, a doorless and shutterless\r\nhouse for the four loosened winds of heaven to howl through, without\r\nstill additional dilapidations. Much oftener than before, Pierre laid\r\nback in his chair with the deadly feeling of faintness. Much oftener\r\nthan before, came staggering home from his evening walk, and from sheer\r\nbodily exhaustion economized the breath that answered the anxious\r\ninquiries as to what might be done for him. And as if all the leagued\r\nspiritual inveteracies and malices, combined with his general bodily\r\nexhaustion, were not enough, a special corporeal affliction now\r\ndescended like a sky-hawk upon him. His incessant application told upon\r\nhis eyes. They became so affected, that some days he wrote with the lids\r\nnearly closed, fearful of opening them wide to the light. Through the\r\nlashes he peered upon the paper, which so seemed fretted with wires.\r\nSometimes he blindly wrote with his eyes turned away from the\r\npaper;--thus unconsciously symbolizing the hostile necessity and\r\ndistaste, the former whereof made of him this most unwilling\r\nstates-prisoner of letters.\r\n\r\nAs every evening, after his day's writing was done, the proofs of the\r\nbeginning of his work came home for correction, Isabel would read them\r\nto him. They were replete with errors; but preoccupied by the thronging,\r\nand undiluted, pure imaginings of things, he became impatient of such\r\nminute, gnat-like torments; he randomly corrected the worst, and let\r\nthe rest go; jeering with himself at the rich harvest thus furnished to\r\nthe entomological critics.\r\n\r\nBut at last he received a tremendous interior intimation, to hold\r\noff--to be still from his unnatural struggle.\r\n\r\nIn the earlier progress of his book, he had found some relief in making\r\nhis regular evening walk through the greatest thoroughfare of the city;\r\nthat so, the utter isolation of his soul, might feel itself the more\r\nintensely from the incessant jogglings of his body against the bodies of\r\nthe hurrying thousands. Then he began to be sensible of more fancying\r\nstormy nights, than pleasant ones; for then, the great thoroughfares\r\nwere less thronged, and the innumerable shop-awnings flapped and beat\r\nlike schooners' broad sails in a gale, and the shutters banged like\r\nlashed bulwarks; and the slates fell hurtling like displaced ship's\r\nblocks from aloft. Stemming such tempests through the deserted streets,\r\nPierre felt a dark, triumphant joy; that while others had crawled in\r\nfear to their kennels, he alone defied the storm-admiral, whose most\r\nvindictive peltings of hail-stones,--striking his iron-framed fiery\r\nfurnace of a body,--melted into soft dew, and so, harmlessly trickled\r\nfrom off him.\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 3"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AKHN66NK0QXXEMH96PQP9","peer_type":"section","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J1JSYKSGCE149MH9HF6A","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AN1M477KV5JNGFPGRNY7Y","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"prev"},{"peer":"01KG8AN1KZ15865V51Q9QYQXR5","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:56.959Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:49:34.287Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}