That’s the way it always is! Like someone went and cut a tiny little sliver of boundless nature out for us, for people: here you go, Golubchiks, a little bit of sun, a bit of summer, some tulip flowers, a tiny bit of greengrass, a few small birds thrown in for spare change. And that’s enough. But I’ll hide all the other creatures, I’ll wrap them in the night, cover them in darkness, stick them in the forest and under the ground like a sleeve, I’ll bury them, starlight’s enough for them, they’re just fine. Let them rustle, scamper, squeak, multiply, live their own lives. And you, well, go and catch ’em if you can. You caught some? Eat your fill. And if you didn’t, do the best you can.
Tolstaya, Tatyana. The Slynx. New York: New York Review Books, 2003.