Tolstoy on the Brevity of Memory

There is a yellowish grey wolf, who, winters, joins the pack, roaming the icy tundras of Siberia, sparing neither man, animal, nor child. In the heat of the summer, however, when the brush is dry and lifeless, he crawls into the peasant’s back yard, licking his hand, whining for food. Such is the nature of man and the brevity of memory that the peasant feeds the bloody tooth of this rapacious beast. – Lev Nikolayevich Tolstoy

(source: unconfirmed – found it in an old book without reference, if you know the source drop me a line!)


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