More Quotes by Mikhail Sholokhov
When swept out of its normal channel, life scatters into innumerable streams. It is difficult to foresee which it will take in its treacherous and winding course. Where today it flows in shallows, like a rivulet over sandbanks, so shallow that the shoals are visible, tomorrow it will flow richly and fully.
And over the village slipped the days, passing into the nights; the weeks flowed by, the months crept on, the wind howled, and glassified with an autumnal, translucent, greenish-azure, The Don flowed tranquility down to the sea.
The grass grows over the graves, time overgrows the pain. The wind blew away the traces of those who had departed; time blows away the bloody pain and the memory of those who did not live to see their dear ones again—and will not live, for brief is human life, and not for long is any of us granted to tread the grass.
In broad daylight it's terrible for a man to face his death; but when you're asleep it ought to be easy enough.
No matter how bad the lord is, the lout become a lord is ten times worse.
When swept out of its normal channel, life scatters into innumerable streams. It is difficult to foresee which it will take in its treacherous and winding course. Where today it flows in shallows like a rivulet over sandbanks, so shallow that the shoals are visible, tomorrow it will flow richly and fully.
