Wow. The words in that link made me think of Siddhartha, Herman Hesse."I MUST make one confession" Ivan began. "I could never understand how one can love one's neighbours. It's just one's neighbours, to my mind, that one can't love, though one might love those at a distance. I once read somewhere of John the Merciful, a saint, that when a hungry, frozen beggar came to him, he took him into his bed, held him in his arms, and began breathing into his mouth, which was putrid and loathsome from some awful disease. I am convinced that he did that from 'self-laceration,' from the self-laceration of falsity, for the sake of the charity imposed by duty, as a penance laid on him
imho this book was light years beyond siddhartha. Siddhartha is more of an eye opener to the nature of reality and The Brothers Karamazov is more of a solution-esque book to the nature of reality.