“Muscovites see clearly but write muddily; the eye grasps but the fingers splay.” — Sigizmund Krzhizhanovsky Copy Share Image
“A dingily bilious sun was seeping through a tent of black clouds. Passersby, spitefully elbowing elbows, were rushing along the pavement. People thronging the doorways of shops tried to pummel their way through and stuck fast, their faces flushed with… — Sigizmund Krzhizhanovsky Copy Share Image
“Oh no.' Straight raised his eyes to me, and a slight smile touched the corners of his lips. 'A philosophy of life is more… — Sigizmund Krzhizhanovsky Copy Share Image
“Here, in the city, associations tend to be strangely uniform: An association by similarity (especially an inner, essential similarity) is rare and almost unachievable. Here the barbershops all trim moustaches the same way, dress shops all button women into much the same styles, bookshop windows display all the same book covers - all billed as THE LATEST THING! From nine… — Sigizmund Krzhizhanovsky Copy Share
“Why frighten little children with the dark when one can quiet them with it and lead them into dreams?” — Sigizmund Krzhizhanovsky Copy Share Image
“In short, you had that particular ability which I never had: the ability to be alive.” — Sigizmund Krzhizhanovsky Copy Share Image
“A dingily bilious sun was seeping through a tent of black clouds.” — Sigizmund Krzhizhanovsky Copy Share Image
“Writers, in essence, are professional word tamers; if the words walking down the lines were living creatures, they would surely fear and hate the… — Sigizmund Krzhizhanovsky Copy Share Image
“Muscovites see clearly but write muddily; the eye grasps but the fingers splay.” — Sigizmund Krzhizhanovsky Copy Share Image
“In a certain present there is more of the future than in the future itself.” — Sigizmund Krzhizhanovsky Copy Share Image
“Hiding my half existence behind the opaque walls of my skull, concealing it like a shameful disease, I did not consider the simple fact… — Sigizmund Krzhizhanovsky Copy Share Image
“Wherever you look, everything is in a row: a seven-story pile abutting a three-windowed log hut hard by a fantastical L-shaped mansion; ten paces from its columns is an outdoor market; farther on, a polluted pissoir; farther still, the white light of a belfry's tent roof, fringed cupolas rising into the blue - and, towering over the tiny church, another… — Sigizmund Krzhizhanovsky Copy Share
“At the time I...loved someone. Now I wouldn't know how.” — Sigizmund Krzhizhanovsky Copy Share Image
“People are ignorant of what any street clock knows. Why? Because the crack that cleaves existence also swallows their existence-reflecting consciousnesses. Thrown back into… — Sigizmund Krzhizhanovsky Copy Share Image
