"All such people are lost.

He, whose character is inflexible, and who has no brains--what sort of a life is his?
We are like this." "I have no character at all," said Foma, stretching himself.

Then after a moment's silence he added: "And I have no brains, either." They were silent for a minute, eyeing each other.
"What are we going to do ?" asked Foma.
"We must have dinner." "No, I mean, in general?
Afterward ?" "Afterward?
I don't know ?" "So you are leaving me ?" "I am.

Come, let's carouse some more before we part.

Let's go to Kazan, and there we'll have a spree--smoke and flame! I'll sing your farewell song." "Very well," assented Foma.