I was modest--they accused me of being crafty: I became secretive. I felt deeply good and evil--nobody caressed me, everybody offended me: I became rancorous. Furthermore, I was gloomy--other children were merry and talkative. Furthermore, I felt myself superior to them--but was considered inferior: I became envious. Furthermore, I was ready to love the whole world--none understood me: and I learned to hate.

A Hero of Our Time