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A man, who, to judge from his appearance, loves nothing but sausages and sauerkraut.
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We judge human activities by their goal; that activity is great of which the goal is great.
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You drive on the Nevski, you look to the left on the Haymarket; the clouds are the color of smoke, the ball of the setting sun purple—Dante's hell!
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His income is twenty-five to fifty thousand, and yet out of poverty he shoots himself.
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Terrible poverty, desperate situation. The mother a widow, her daughter a very ugly girl. At last the mother takes courage and advises the daughter to go on the streets. She herself when young went on the streets without her husband's knowledge in order to get money for her dresses; she has some experience. She instructs her daughter. The latter goes out, walks all night; not a single man takes her; she is ugly. A couple of days later, three young rascals on the boulevard take her. She brought home a note which turned out to be a lottery ticket no longer valid.