Quote by Tatyana Tolstaya

“We stomp our feet, turn our faces to the distant heavenly Spindle, listen to tears tinkling like frozen peas, rolling into the thickets of our beards, we listen to the silence of the black izbas on black foothills, the creak of the high trees, to the whine of the blizzard, which brings in gusts -- barely audible, but still clear -- of a distant, pitiful, hungry northern wail.”

Quote by Tatyana Tolstaya