Raskolnikov looked curiously at the speaker%2E She was a pock%2Dmarked wench of thirty, covered with bruises, with her upper lip swollen%2E She made her criticism quietly and earnestly%2E %22Where is it,%22 thought Raskolnikov%2E %22Where is it I%27ve read that some one condemned to death says or thinks, an hour before his death, that if he had to live on some high rock, on such a narrow ledge that he%27d only room to stand, and the ocean, everlasting darkness, everlasting solitude, everlasting tempest around him, if he had to remain standing on a square yard of space all his life, a thousand years, eternity, it were better to live so than to die at once%21 Only to live, to live and live%21 Life, whatever it may be%21%3A How true it is%21 Good God, how true%21 Man is a vile creature%21%3A And vile is he who calls him vile for that,%22 he added a moment later%2E