and of what import was it ultimately that the standing mans own eyes might be cut by the savage discharge of russias power and destiny when the splinter in ones eye is the best magnifying glass and to be blinded by truth was no more a paradox than the echo and the slap of immortality and of what import was it ultimately that attempting to teach westernised comfortable narcoleptic russia to think on and in itself and to sing its thoughts was at present nothing less than the sentimental education of a zombie , lesser men than he the standing man had braved it and history had not forgotten the weight of their shadows .