#4.1.12

Platón Karatáev was speaking. “But ‘the maggot gnaws the cabbage, yet dies first’…” “What? What did you say?” asked Pierre. “Who? I?” said Karatáev. “I say things happen not as we plan but as God judges,” he replied, thinking that he was repeating what he had said before…

*words spoken by Platón Karatáev, 'the little man' beside Pierre in the prisoner of war containment.

For a long time Pierre did not sleep, but lay with eyes open in the darkness, listening to the regular snoring of Platón who lay beside him, and he felt that the world that had been shattered was once more stirring in his soul with a new beauty and on new and unshakable foundations.

From the moment Pierre had witnessed those terrible murders committed by men who did not wish to commit them, it was as if the mainspring of his life, on which everything depended and which made everything appear alive, had suddenly been wrenched out and everything had collapsed into a heap of meaningless rubbish. … He had experienced this before, but never so strongly as now. When similar doubts had assailed him before, they had been the result of his own wrongdoing, and at the bottom of his heart he had felt that relief from his despair and from those doubts was to be found within himself. But now he felt that the universe had crumbled before his eyes and only meaningless ruins remained, and this not by any fault of his own. He felt that it was not in his power to regain faith in the meaning of life. … Sitting silent and motionless on a heap of straw against the wall, Pierre sometimes opened and sometimes closed his eyes. But as soon as he closed them he saw before him the dreadful face of the factory lad—especially dreadful because of its simplicity—and the faces of the murderers, even more dreadful because of their disquiet. And he opened his eyes again and stared vacantly into the darkness around him.

Make two more empty gameobjects, give them box colliders, and place them as shown.

I’ve cut out some of the greater things in life to keep it at a likable pace; selfishly. Unwilling to employ anyones insights, let alone distribute them where most needed. I’m sue it won’t turn out to be half as bad. In the end you’re always the critic. In the end, I will have to step aside and allow you to make all the final decisions. Replay this envision, Review it, Edit: Correct all my living flaws, REproduce it, Shape it. Make it what you wish, so when others watch it they’ll be left with thee impression that I lead a decent life. Leave out those times that I cried from disillusionment, the nights where I lost myself in a mess of details debating whether or not I did the "right thing.” The fact that I doubted and pitted this lifestyle every minute of the day. You have an artistic mind, do what you have to do to make this come true. Lie if you have to. All I ask is that you make it believable, that you do this passionately, that these shadows of empathy be lifted upon from me. To let go and live and so peacefully.

4.2