Professor Rubek Monologue from When We Dead Awaken

From When We Dead Awaken by Henrik Ibsen

male · contemplative · 50 sec

Something of the sort, to tell the truth, little Maia. For a year or a year and a half I had lived there lonely and brooding, and had put the last touch--the very last touch, to my work. "The Resurrection Day" went out over the world and brought me fame--and everything else that heart could desire. But I no longer loved my own work. Men's laurels and incense nauseated me, till I could have rushed away in despair and hidden myself in the depths of the woods. You, who are a thought-reader--can you guess what then occurred to me?

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