“Must we? Can we not live a quaint existence? Can you not be a good man?” “A good man? Oh, Roza—” Rosalind trailed her hands along the bookshelf, finding only dust, even though it could not have been more than a few days since the worn paperbacks were cleared away. “Ya chelovek bol’nói. Ya zloi chelovek. Neprivlekatel’nyi ya chelovek.”
Translate the end
edit: it means "I am a sick man. I am an evil man. I am an inattractive man."
