To be sure, most rich people don't understand their happiness; if they did, they would move and talk like gods--which indeed they are.' Amy's brow was shadowed.

A wise man, in Reardon's position, would not have chosen this subject to dilate upon.
'The difference,' he went on, 'between the man with money and the man without is simply this: the one thinks, "How shall I use my life ?" and the other, "How shall I keep myself alive ?" A physiologist ought to be able to discover some curious distinction between the brain of a person who has never given a thought to the means of subsistence, and that of one who has never known a day free from such cares.

There must be some special cerebral development representing the mental anguish kept up by poverty.' 'I should say,' put in Amy, 'that it affects every function of the brain.

It isn't a special point of suffering, but a misery that colours every thought.' 'True.

Can I think of a single subject in all the sphere of my experience without the consciousness that I see it through the medium of poverty?
I have no enjoyment which isn't tainted by that thought, and I can suffer no pain which it doesn't increase.