Quotes from Yevgeny Zamyatin

Hükümet (veya insanl?k) idam cezas?na izin vermiyor ama milyonlarca kiÅŸinin her gün yavaÅŸ yavaÅŸ öldürülmesine göz yumuyor. Bir insan? öldürmek -yani yaÅŸam?ndan 50 y?l almak- suç ama tüm insanlar?n yaÅŸamlar?ndan 50.000.000 y?l? çekip almak suç deÄŸil!

Omul e ca un roman: pân? la ultima pagin? nu È™tii cum se va termina. Altfel nici n-ar merita s? citeÈ™ti...

Birinin sizi dikkatle izlemesi, sizi en ufak hatay? yapmaktan, en ufak yanl?? ad?m? atmaktan kibarca korumas? ho?tur.

What is the matter -a soul? You say a soul? Oh, damn it! We may soon retrogress even to the cholera epidemics.

And then here I am back down, right beside the stone, my body rumpled, happy, crumpled as if it had just made love. Sun. Voices from above. I-330's smile.

I am imprudent, I am sick, I have a soul, I am a microbe. But isn't blooming a sickness? Doesn't it hurt when a bud splits open?

Kendimi duyumsuyorum. Ama sadece içine kirpik kaçan göz, ÅŸiÅŸmiÅŸ parmak veya çürük diÅŸ kendini duyumsar, bireysel varl???n?n bilincine var?r. SaÄŸl?kl? göz veya parmak ya da diÅŸ varlarm?? gibi görünmezler. Yani gayet aç?k, deÄŸil mi? Kendi kendinin bilincine varmak hastal?kt?r.

laughter comes in different colors. It is only the distant echo of an explosion occurring inside you: it might be festive rockets of red, blue, gold, or it might be shreds of human bodies flying upward

Without her the sun of tomorrow will be merely a tin circle, and the sky, tin painted blue, and I myself.

Children are the only bold philosophers. And bold philosophers are invariably children.

we live behind our transparent walls that seem woven of gleaming air —we are always visible, always washed in light. We have nothing to hide from one another. Besides, this makes much easier the burdensome and noble task of the Guardians, for, Who knows what might happen otherwise? Perhaps it was precisely those bizarre, opaque dwellings of the ancients that gave rise to their psychology of individuality.

The same joy is in a stone which, thrown aloft, hesitates a little at the height of its flight and then rushes down to the ground. It is the same with a man when in his final convulsion he takes a last deep breath and dies.

You will place the benevolent yoke of reason on the necks of the unknown beings on other planets, who may still be living in that primitive state known as freedom.

Well, which final revolution do you want then? There isn't a final one. Revolutions are infinite. Final things are for children because infinity scares children and it is important that children sleep peacefully at night . . .

On days like this you can see into the bluest depth of things, their previously unknown, astonishing equations—you see them in even the most familiar everyday thing.

Estou diante dum espelho. Pela primeira vez na vida (isso, exactamente, pela primeira vez na vida) estou a ver-me clara, distinta e conscientemente; olho para mim, admirado, como se estivesse a ver alguém diferente de mim.

A human being is like a novel: until the last page you don't know how it will end. Or it wouldn't be worth reading.

The speed of a tongue should always go some seconds behind the speed of thought, never the other way around.

One must remember that mathematics is like death, never makes mistakes, never plays tricks. If we are unable to see those irrational curves or solids, it only means that they inevitably possess a whole immense world somewhere beneath the surface of our life...

Children are the only bold philosophers. And bold philosophers are invariably children. Exactly, just like children, we must always ask, 'And what next?

How awful for you! By the looks of it, you've developed a soul.

Harmful literature is more useful than useful literature, for it is antientropic, it is a means of combating calcification. ...It is utopian, absurd. ...It is right 150 years later.' -from 'On Literature, Revolution, Entropy and Other Matters' as read in the introduction to Mirra Ginsburg's translation of 'We.

And it's also clear that what I felt yesterday, that stupid "dissolving in the universe", if you take it to its limit, is death. Because that's exactly what death is-the fullest possible dissolving of myself into the universe.

There were two in paradise and the choice was offered to them: happiness without freedom, or freedom without happiness. No other choice. Tertium non datur. They, fools that they were, chose freedom.