And the difference in people is very insignificant.

There are some that have not even any trousers and yet they reason as though they were attired in silks." Carried away by his thoughts, Foma would have continued to give them utterance, but Taras moved his armchair away from the table, rose and said softly, with a sigh: "No, thank you! I don't want any more." Foma broke off his speech abruptly, shrugged his shoulders and looked at Lubov with a smile.
"Where have you picked up such philosophy ?" she asked, suspiciously and drily.
"That is not philosophy.

That is simply torture!" said Foma in an undertone.

"Open your eyes and look at everything.

Then you will think so yourself." "By the way, Luba, turn your attention to the fact," began Taras, standing with his back toward the table and scrutinizing the clock, "that pessimism is perfectly foreign to the Anglo-Saxon race.