“Muscovites see clearly but write muddily; the eye grasps but the fingers splay.” — 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;… — 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… — 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
“Here, in the city, associations tend to be strangely uniform: An association by similarity (especially an inner, essential similarity) is rare and almost unachievable.… — 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
“In short, you had that particular ability which I never had: the ability to be alive.” — Sigizmund Krzhizhanovsky Copy Share
“A dingily bilious sun was seeping through a tent of black clouds.” — Sigizmund Krzhizhanovsky Copy Share
“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
“Muscovites see clearly but write muddily; the eye grasps but the fingers splay.” — Sigizmund Krzhizhanovsky Copy Share
“In a certain present there is more of the future than in the future itself.” — Sigizmund Krzhizhanovsky Copy Share
“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
“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… — Sigizmund Krzhizhanovsky Copy Share
“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
“Quantin crept closer to the knoll. A pungent smell passed through his nostrils up into his brain. Attracted by the poppies' scarlet smears, he… — Sigizmund Krzhizhanovsky Copy Share
“...as I was sifting through a heap of old and new "identity cards," I noticed that something was missing: my identity.” — Sigizmund Krzhizhanovsky Copy Share
“But it's fair to say that the war's [WWI] dialectic forced those who were more or less alive to go to their death, and… — Sigizmund Krzhizhanovsky Copy Share
