Chapter: You believe in a palace of crystal that can never be destroyed--a
palace at which one will not be able to put out one's tongue or make a
long nose on the sly.  And perhaps that is just why I am afraid of this
edifice, that it is of crystal and can never be destroyed and that one
cannot put one's tongue out at it even on the sly.

You see, if it were not a palace, but a hen-house, I might creep into
it to avoid getting wet, and yet I would not call the hen-house a
palace out of gratitude to it for keeping me dry.  You laugh and say
that in such circumstances a hen-house is as good as a mansion.  Yes, I
answer, if one had to live simply to keep out of the rain.

But what is to be done if I have taken it into my head that that is not
the only object in life, and that if one must live one had better live
in a mansion?  That is my choice, my desire.  You will only eradicate
it when you have changed my preference.  Well, do change it, allure me
with something else, give me another ideal.  But meanwhile I will not
take a hen-house for a mansion.  The palace of crystal may be an idle
dream, it may be that it is inconsistent with the laws of nature and
that I have invented it only through my own stupidity, through the
old-fashioned irrational habits of my generation.  But what does it
matter to me that it is inconsistent?  That makes no difference since
it exists in my desires, or rather exists as long as my desires exist.
Perhaps you are laughing again? Laugh away; I will put up with any
mockery rather than pretend that I am satisfied when I am hungry.  I
know, anyway, that I will not be put off with a compromise, with a
recurring zero, simply because it is consistent with the laws of nature
and actually exists.  I will not accept as the crown of my desires a
block of buildings with tenements for the poor on a lease of a thousand
years, and perhaps with a sign-board of a dentist hanging out. Destroy
my desires, eradicate my ideals, show me something better, and I will
follow you.  You will say, perhaps, that it is not worth your trouble;
but in that case I can give you the same answer.  We are discussing
things seriously; but if you won't deign to give me your attention, I
will drop your acquaintance.  I can retreat into my underground hole.

But while I am alive and have desires I would rather my hand were
withered off than bring one brick to such a building!  Don't remind me
that I have just rejected the palace of crystal for the sole reason
that one cannot put out one's tongue at it.  I did not say because I am
so fond of putting my tongue out.  Perhaps the thing I resented was,
that of all your edifices there has not been one at which one could not
put out one's tongue.  On the contrary, I would let my tongue be cut
off out of gratitude if things could be so arranged that I should lose
all desire to put it out.  It is not my fault that things cannot be so
arranged, and that one must be satisfied with model flats.  Then why am
I made with such desires?  Can I have been constructed simply in order
to come to the conclusion that all my construction is a cheat?  Can
this be my whole purpose?  I do not believe it.

But do you know what: I am convinced that we underground folk ought to
be kept on a curb.  Though we may sit forty years underground without
speaking, when we do come out into the light of day and break out we
talk and talk and talk....

 The Underground Man again addresses us, his audience: "You believe in a palace of crystal," he begins, a palace which cannot be destroyed and which is so all-around wonderful that no one could put his tongue out at it. And we start down a slightly convoluted path of reasoning. Let's suppose the Underground Man were caught in the rain and took shelter in a hen house. As grateful as he was to the hen house for keeping him dry, he wouldn't call it a palace simply out of gratitude. Why? Isn't the hen house just as useful in the rain as a mansion? Not, the Underground Man says, if you have convinced yourself that the object of living is to live in a mansion. Once he's decided that, he won't be satisfied with a hen house, no matter how useful. Make sense? OK, now let's suppose there is no such thing as a mansion, but the Underground Man still wants to live in one. He will never be satisfied with all the hen houses in the world, because he'll be searching for his mansion that doesn't exist. This extends to the idea of the Crystal Palace. Even if it is a completely imaginary dream, even if it's impossible to have an actual Crystal Palace, the man who believes in the Crystal Palace will never be satisfied with anything less. The point he makes is that once a person has an ideal, he won't compromise it - not until you show him something better. And until someone does show him something better, he'll just stay underground, thank you very much. Back to the Crystal Palace. The Underground Man is adamantly against the palace for the sole reason that he can't put his tongue out at it. And it is the only building he can think of that he can't mock. The thing is, he doesn't even like putting his tongue out at stuff. Or at least, he wishes that he didn't like it. He hates that he desires to mock everything. He starts rambling but interrupts to say that underground men like himself ought to be kept on street corners, because if they're underground for forty years , all they do is talk and talk and talk when they come out.

