I said that insanity is not a greater riddle than sanity. The mystery is how the personality which lives in me manifests itself through the brain. But if I admit that the first cause is not in my brain, but outside it, and the brain is only a means by which my personality is shown, then it is for me no _fresh_ mystery that that personality of mine cannot be manifested when the machine of the brain is disordered. Tolstoi said: “Yes, it is all a mystery! Let us take a child. When it is born, has it conscious life? When does consciousness begin in a child? And what is it when it moves in its mother’s womb? To me life is a ceaseless liberation of the ‘I’ of the spirit. Recently N. N. came to me and asked me whether I believe in a future life? But to me there is a contradiction contained in the question. What does ‘future life’ mean? One may believe in life, but for eternal life our conception ‘future’ is quite inapplicable. “But if we speak of life as we can realize it, as life _after_ our present life, then it seems to me that it can be conceived only in two possible forms: either as a fusion with the eternal spiritual principle, with God, or as a continuation, in a different form, of the same process of liberation of the spiritual ‘I’ from what is called matter. “It may be accidental, but it is remarkable that Christ said to the Pharisees: ‘Before Abraham was, I am.’” I came into the dining-room while Tolstoi was talking with K. A. Mikhailov about art: “Among the sensations experienced by our senses of touch, sight, hearing, etc., there are some which are unpleasant and painful--for instance, a violent knock, a deafening noise, a bitter taste, etc. Now modern art often works upon us not so much by means of its content, as by irritating our organs of sensation, painfully. As regards taste, an unhealthy taste needs mustard, whilst it produces an unpleasant impression upon a pure taste. So it is in the arts. It is necessary to draw a dividing line and to find where that artistic mustard begins, and I think it is a problem of enormous importance. In painting, it seems to me, it is particularly difficult to draw that line.” Tolstoi said to Count Yashvil: “I have been learning all my life and do not cease to learn, and this is what I have noticed: learning is only fruitful when it corresponds to one’s needs. Otherwise it is useless. I remember I was a Justice of the Peace; I used to take the laws and tried to study them, but I could not fix anything in my mind. But whenever for some particular case, I needed certain legal knowledge, I always kept it in my mind and could use it in practice.” The conversation turned on our government. Count Yashvil began giving instances to prove how bad it is in Europe. To this Tolstoi replied even with some irritation: