"I know that to argue with a man at a time when all the wounds of his heart are bleeding, is only to insult him.

I know it, brother." "It's impossible to argue with me; I can't," mumbled Nikolay, lowering his eyes.
"I think," continued the Little Russian, "that each of us has gone through that, each of us has walked with bare feet over broken glass, each of us in his dark hour has gasped for breath as you are now." "You have nothing to tell me!" said Vyesovshchikov slowly.

"Nothing! My heart is so--it seems to me as if wolves were howling there!" "And I don't want to say anything to you.

Only I know that you'll get over this, perhaps not entirely, but you'll get over it!" He smiled, and added, tapping Nikolay on the back: "Why, man, this is a children's disease, something like measles! We all suffer from it, the strong less, the weak more.

It comes upon a man at the period when he has found himself, but does not yet understand life, and his own place in life.