Yevgeny Zamyatin

“ She came near the bust of the snub-nosed poet, lowered the curtain on the wild fire of her eyes, and said (this time I think she was really in earnest, or perhaps she merely wanted to soften my impatience with her, but she said a very reasonable thing) :
“Don’t you think it surprising that once people could stand types like this? Not only stand them, but worship them? What a slavish spirit, don’t you think so?”
“It’s clear . . . that is . . .!” I wanted . . . (damn that cursed “it’s clear!”) .
“Oh, yes, I understand. But in fact these poets were stronger rulers than the crowned ones. ”

“ I know, I know. It’s all right. Go all by yourselves—I shall remain here in the sunshine.”
Hmm. . . . Apparently my companion was a frequent guest here. Something disturbed me; probably that unpleasant optical impression, the cloud on the smooth blue surface of the sky.
While we were ascending the wide, dark stairs, I-330 said, “I love her, that old woman.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps for her mouth—or perhaps for nothing, just so.”
I shrugged my shoulders. She continued walking upstairs with a faint smile, or perhaps without a smile at all. ”

“ “It’s clear that you want to seem original. But is it possible that you—?”
“It is clear,” interrupted I-330, “that to be original means to stand out among others; consequently, to be original means to violate the law of equality. What was called in the language of the ancients ‘to be common’ is with us only the fulfilling of one’s duty. ”

“ A white plane above, dark blue walls, red, green, orange bindings of ancient books, yellow bronze candelabra, a statue of Buddha, furniture with lines distorted by epilepsy, impossible to reduce to any clear equation. ”

“ Therefore I must point out now that, sad as it may be, the process of the hardening and crystallization of life has evidently not been completed even here in our State. ”