He gnashed his teeth, shook his head, his hands waved in the air like broken wings of a bird, and altogether it seemed as though he were being boiled in a kettle of hot water.

Foma looked at him with a strange, mixed sensation; he pitied Yozhov, and at the same time he was pleased to see him suffering.
"I am not alone, he is suffering, too," thought Foma, as Yozhov spoke.
And something clashed in Yozhov's throat, like broken glass, and creaked like an unoiled hinge.
"Poisoned by the kindness of men, I was ruined through the fatal capacity of every poor fellow during the making of his career, through the capacity of being reconciled with little in the expectation of much.

Oh! Do you know, more people perish through lack of proper self-appreciation than from consumption, and perhaps that is why the leaders of the masses serve as district inspectors!" "The devil take the district inspectors!" said Foma, with a wave of the hand.

"Tell me about yourself." "About myself! I am here entire!" exclaimed Yozhov, stopping short in the middle of the room, and striking his chest with his hands.

"I have already accomplished all I could accomplish.