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Sometimes there's nothing better than returning to a beloved classic at a new juncture in one's life.
Haven't read The Possessed (Demons/Devils) since I was a teen.
Oh, how wise, fun, and sprawling in sly confidence the prose remains.
I could never be a Dostoevsky (and thank goodness, I've never endured what he did to become the writer we know), so I'm glad to live in a world where he already existed. It's best to aim to be the best versions of ourselves (however weird) instead.