Yevgeny Zamyatin Quotes

I've got cut half in two, once, and blowed up a time or two, but nothing permanent.

It's an odd feeling, knowing someone is trying to kill you. On the front line, you learn quickly that if you're in the path of a bullet, you will get hit.

The town caught fire in several places, shells crashed and burst, and solid shot rained like hail.

A hospital alone shows what war is.

It was treacherous. I think someone was injured. But I did love being there, we all did.

Bombs do very, very bad things to human bodies. It's incredibly shocking to see.

It's a war zone. Terrible things happen.

It's all fun and games 'till someone loses an eye, then it's just fun you can't see.

I am not armed ... Stand out of the way and let the assassin fire.

Dad never demonstrated any fear, although my sisters and I lived in terror he’d be killed by an assassin.

Bombing, particularly from the perspective of the receiving end, is not 'communication.' Bombs result in death and destruction.

Spontaneous combustion IS a form of harm, Mr. D," Chiron put in.

No broken hearts, no broken necks.

Anything can happen with a razor.

Both of us will die today, gunned down or smashed up or exploded in some terrible moment of fire and twisted metal, and when they go to bury us we'll be so melted together and entwined they won't be able to separate the bodies; pieces of him will go with me, and pieces of me will go with him.

I thought he had been shot.

As for you, Private, if you mention a word of this to anyone, I'll feed you to the cat thing here. Understand?" "Yum," said Mogget. "Yes, sir!" mumbled the telephone operator, his hands shaking as he tried to smother the burning wreckage of his switchboard with a fire blanket.

I think war is a dangerous place.

She saw him drenched with gasoline. She could actually feel the box of matches in her hand.

Is it...dead?" asked Tom, his voice all quivery with fright. "A town just ran over him," said Hester. "I shouldn't think he's very well.

It's a bomb. Just like you.

What happens to the rest of something when you smash its heart?

So the first thing we're gonna do," I told him, "is push you off the roof.

Stories heard but not recalled. Letters too. Words filling my head. Fragmenting like artillery shells. Shrapnel, like syllables, flying everywhere. Terrible syllables. Sharp cracked. Traveling at murderous speed. Tearing through it all in a very, very bad inreparable way.

War is both the product of an earlier corruption, and a producer of new corruptions.