We are that living force which feeds and amuses the world from the cradle to the grave." "There!" Rybin exclaimed.
"Always and everywhere we are first in work but last in life.

Who cares for us?
Who wishes us good?
Who regards us as human beings?
No one!" "No one!" echoed from the crowd.
Pavel, mastering himself, began to talk more simply and calmly; the crowd slowly drew about him, blending into one dark, thick, thousand-headed body.

It looked into his face with hundreds of attentive eyes; it sucked in his words in silent, strained attention.
"We will not attain to a better life until we feel ourselves as comrades, as one family of friends firmly bound together by one desire--the desire to fight for our rights." "Get down to business!" somebody standing near the mother shouted rudely.
"Don't interrupt!" "Shut up!" The two muffled exclamations were heard in different places.

The soot-covered faces frowned in sulky incredulity; scores of eyes looked into Pavel's face thoughtfully and seriously.
"A socialist, but no fool!" somebody observed.
"I say, he does speak boldly!" said a tall, crippled workingman, tapping the mother on the shoulder.
"It is time, comrades, to take a stand against the greedy power that lives by our labor.

It is time to defend ourselves; we must all understand that no one except ourselves will help us.