His air was at once complacent and excited.
"I have no time to flirt," he said.

"Life is a stern matter.

We live in dog houses, not in sheep pens, and every pack barks after its own fashion." "There are some masters," said the mother, recalling certain familiar faces, "who die for the people, and let themselves be tortured all their lives in prison." "Their calculations are different, and their deserts are different," said Rybin.

"The muzhik grown rich turns into a gentleman, and the gentleman grown poor goes to the muzhik.

Willy-nilly, he must have a pure soul, if his purse is empty.