The Cherry Orchard by Chekhov

Here is a excerpt from a play I've been reading:

Trofimov: Where's the sense in being proud when you consider that Man, as a species, is not very well constructed physiologically, and, in the vast majority of cases is coarse, stupid, and profoundly unhappy, too? We ought to stop all this self-admiration. We ought to - just work.

Gayev: You'll die just the same, whatever you do.

Trofimov: Who knows? And anyway, what does it mean to die? It may be that Man is possessed of hundred senses, and only five that are known to us perish in death, while the remaining ninety-five live on afterwards.

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Trofimov: Just now a young fellow was telling me that some great philosopher or other...advises people to jump off the roofs. You just jump off, he says, and that settles the whole problem. Fancy that.