Yevgeny Zamyatin - We - Avon/Bard - 1972 (cover design by Hal Siegel)
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In the morning, the sun is rosy, transparent, warm gold. And the air itself is a little rosy, all steeped in the sun's gentle blood. Everything is alive: stones are living and soft; iron is living and warm....
Yevgeny Zamyatin, We (trans. Natasha Randall)
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mc in a dystopia novel is always either a tomboyish teenage girl who is in some way extraordinary or a tired middle aged man who somehow ran across a manic pixie with ties to la resistance and just fell in love on spot.
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Humility is a virtue, and pride a vice; “we” is from god, and “I” from the devil.
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"But isn't blooming a sickness? Doesn't it hurt when the bud bursts open?"
- Yevgeny Zamyatin, We
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I am imprudent, I am sick, I have a soul, I am a microbe. But what if blooming is a sickness? What if it is painful when a bud bursts?
~Yevgeny Zamyatin
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the morning blueness, chaste, not yet dried of its nighttime tears...
Yevgeny Zamyatin, We (trans. Natasha Randall)
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“A person is like a novel: Up to the very last page you don’t know how it’s going to end. Otherwise, there’d be no point in reading…”
— Yevgeny Zamyatin, We
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You'll find the other polls in my 'sf polls' tag / my pinned post.
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“An idea hit me: The way the human body is built, it’s just as stupid as those ‘apartments’ — human heads are opaque and there’s no way to see inside except through those tiny little windows, the eyes.”
— Yevgeny Zamyatin, from We (1924)
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There is no final one; revolutions are infinite.
We by Yevgeny Zamyatin
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I am alone. Or, more like: alone with that other "me".
Yevgeny Zamyatin, We (trans. Natasha Randall)
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“A man is like a novel: you don't know how things will end until the very last page. Otherwise, it wouldn't be worth reading...”
— Yevgeny Zamjatin, We
“Человек – как роман: до самой последней страницы не знаешь, чем кончится. Иначе не стоило бы и читать…”
— Евгений Иванович Замятин, Мы
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"Seni korkutuyor çünkü senden güçlü. Nefret ediyorsun çünkü korkuyorsun. Seviyorsun çünkü iplerini eline alamıyorsun. İnsan sadece köle edemediğini sever."
– Biz, Yevgeni İvanoviç Zamyatin
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We (1982)
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And something in me (not me) has a momentary thought: 'Can it be that everyone harbors the kind of pain that can be extracted only along with the heart, and that everyone has to do something before...?'
-Yevgeny Zamyatin, We. (trans. Clarence Brown)
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