“The road was overgrown with dry, dust-decrepit grass. Whenever Zakhar Pavlovich sat to smoke, he saw pleasant forests on the ground, where the grass was trees. It was a complete little living world, with its own roads, its own warmth, and complete supplies for the everyday needs of the petty, preoccupied creatures. Zakhar Pavlovich kept the ants in his head for about three miles of his way after watching them, and finally thought, If only we were given ant or mosquito reason, then life could be smoothed over right away, without problems. Those minor things are great masters of the harmonious life. A man's a long way from that nimble fellow, the ant.”
Book:Chevengur
