You have handed over your work to the assistant and the rest of the abble while you sit in peace and warth, save money, read, amuse yourself with all sorts of lofty nonsense, and" (Ivan Dmitritch looked at the doctor's red nose) "with boozing. In fact, you have seen nothing of life, you know absolutely nothing of it, and are only theoretically acquainted with reality.
You despise suffering and are surprised at nothing for a very simple reason: vanity of vanities, the external and the internal, contempt for life, for suffering and for death, comprehension, true Russian sluggard best. You see a peasant beating his wife, for instance.
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