Data urodzenia: Jewgienij Iwanowicz Zamiatin — rosyjski pisarz science fiction, polityczny satyryk, krytyk i publicysta. On Literature, Revolution, Entropy and Other Matters Kontekst: A literature that is alive does not live by yesterday's clock, nor by today's but by tomorrow's. It is a sailor sent aloft: from the masthead he can see foundering ships, icebergs, and maelstroms still invisible from the deck. He can be dragged down from the mast and put to tending the boilers or working the capstan, but that will not change anything: the mast will remain, and the next man on the masthead will see what the first has seen. In a storm, you must have a man aloft.
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Data urodzenia: Jewgienij Iwanowicz Zamiatin — rosyjski pisarz science fiction, polityczny satyryk, krytyk i publicysta. On Literature, Revolution, Entropy and Other Matters Kontekst: A literature that is alive does not live by yesterday's clock, nor by today's but by tomorrow's.
It is a sailor sent aloft: from the masthead he can see foundering ships, icebergs, and maelstroms still invisible from the deck. He can be dragged down from the mast and put to tending the boilers or working the capstan, but that will not change anything: the mast will remain, and the next man on the masthead will see what the first has seen.
In a storm, you must have a man aloft. We are in the midst of storm today, and SOS signals come from every side. Today, yesterday, and tomorrow are equally near to one another, and equally far. They are generations, they are grandfathers, fathers, and grandsons. And grandsons invariably love and hate the fathers; the fathers invariably hate and love the grandfathers. Today is doomed to die — because yesterday died, and because tomorrow will be born. Such is the wise and cruel law.
Cruel, because it condemns to eternal dissatisfaction those who already today see the distant peaks of tomorrow; wise, because eternal dissatisfaction is the only pledge of eternal movement forward, eternal creation. He who has found his ideal today is, like Lot's wife, already turned to a pillar of salt, has already sunk into the earth and does not move ahead. The world is kept alive only by heretics: the heretic Christ, the heretic Copernicus, the heretic Tolstoy. Our symbol of faith is heresy: tomorrow is an inevitable heresy of today, which has turned into a pillar of salt, and to yesterday, which has scattered to dust.
Today denies yesterday, but is a denial of denial tomorrow. This is the constant dialectic path which in a grandiose parabola sweeps the world into infinity. Yesterday, the thesis; today, the antithesis, and tomorrow, the synthesis. Differences in form are due only to differences in the coordinates. All realistic forms are projections along the fixed, plane coordinates of Euclid's world. These coordinates do not exist in nature. Nor does the finite, fixed world; this world is a convention, an abstraction, an unreality.
And therefore Realism — be it "socialist" or "bourgeois" — is unreal. Far closer to reality is projection along speeding, curved surfaces — as in the new mathematics and the new art. Realism that is not primitive, not realia but realiora, consists in displacement, distortion, curvature, non-objectivity. Only the camera lens is objective. We march in the name of tomorrow's free man — the royal man. We have lived through the epoch of suppression of the masses; we are living in an epoch of suppression of the individual in the name of the masses; tomorrow will bring the liberation of the individual — in the name of man.
Wars, imperialist and civil, have turned man into material for warfare, into a number, a cipher. Man is forgotten, for the sake of the sabbath. We want to recall something else to mind: that the sabbath is for man. On Literature, Revolution, Entropy and Other Matters Kontekst: A new form is not intelligible to everyone; many find it difficult. The ordinary, the banal is, of course, simpler, more pleasant, more comfortable. Euclid's world is very simple, and Einstein's world is very difficult — but it is no longer possible to return to Euclid.
No revolution, no heresy is comfortable or easy. For it is a leap, it is a break in the smooth evolutionary curve, and a break is a wound, a pain. But the wound is necessary: most of mankind suffers from hereditary sleeping sickness, and victims of this sickness entropy must not be allowed to sleep, or it will be their final sleep, death.
The same disease often afflicts artists and writers: they sink into satiated slumber in forms once invented and twice perfected. And they lack the strength to wound themselves, to cease loving what they once loved, to leave their old, familiar apartments filled with the scent of laurel leaves and walk away into the open field, to start anew.
Of course, to wound oneself is difficult, even dangerous. But for those who are alive, living today as yesterday and yesterday as today is still more difficult.
On Literature, Revolution, Entropy and Other Matters Kontekst: When the flaming, seething sphere in science, religion, social life, art cools, the fiery magma becomes coated with dogma—a rigid, ossified, motionless crust. Dogmatization in science, religion, social life, or art is the entropy of thought. What has become dogma no longer burns; it only gives off warmth — it is tepid, it is cool. Instead of the Sermon on the Mount, under the scorching sun, to up-raised arms and sobbing people, there is drowsy prayer in a magnificent abbey.
Instead of Galileo's "But still, it turns! On the Galileos, the epigones build their own structures, slowly, bit by bit, like corals. This is the path of evolution — until a new heresy explodes the crush of dogma and all the edifices of the most enduring stone which have been raised upon it.
Explosions are not very comfortable. And therefore the exploders, the heretics, are justly exterminated by fire, by axes, by words. To every today, to every evolution, to the laborious, slow, useful, most useful, creative, coral-building work, heretics are a threat.
Stupidly, recklessly, they burst into today from tomorrow; they are romantics. On Literature, Revolution, Entropy and Other Matters Kontekst: The law of revolution is red, fiery, deadly; but this death means the birth of new life, a new star. And the law of entropy is cold, ice blue, like the icy interplanetary infinities. The flame turns from red to an even, warm pink, no longer deadly, but comfortable.
The sun ages into a planet, convenient for highways, stores, beds, prostitutes, prisons: this is the law. And if the planet is to be kindled into youth again, it must be set on fire, it must be thrown off the smooth highway of evolution: this is the law. The flame will cool tomorrow, or the day after tomorrow in the Book of Genesis days are equal to years, ages. But someone must see this already today, and speak heretically today about tomorrow.
Heretics are the only bitter remedy against the entropy of human thought. Others will answer by the calendar, naming the month and the day. Still others will give you an ABC answer. But if we are to go on from the ABC to syllables, the answer will be this: Two dead, dark stars collide with an inaudible, deafening crash and light a new star: this is revolution.
A molecule breaks away from its orbit and, bursting into a neighboring atomic universe, gives birth to a new chemical element: this is revolution. Lobachevsky cracks the walls of the millennia old Euclidean world with a single book, opening a path to innumerable non-Euclidean spaces: this is revolution. Revolution is everywhere, in everything. It is infinite. There is no final revolution, no final number. The social revolution is only one of an infinite number of numbers: the law of revolution is not a social law, but an immeasurably greater one.
It is a cosmic, universal law — like the laws of the conservation of energy and of the dissipation of energy entropy. And in this formula, nations, classes, stars — and books — will be expressed as numerical quantities. On Literature, Revolution, Entropy and Other Matters Kontekst: It is an error to divide people into the living and the dead: there are people who are dead-alive, and people who are alive-alive. The dead-alive also write, walk, speak, act.
But they make no mistakes; only machines make no mistakes, and they produce only dead things. The alive-alive are constantly in error, in search, in questions, in torment. The same is true of what we write: it walks and it talks, but it can be dead-alive or alive-alive. What is truly alive stops before nothing and ceaselessly seeks answers to absurd, "childish" questions.
Let the answers be wrong, let the philosophy be mistaken — errors are more valuable than truths: truth is of the machine, error is alive; truth reassures, error disturbs.
And if answers be impossible of attainment, all the better! Dealing with answered questions is the privilege of brains constructed like a cow's stomach, which, as we know, is built to digest cud.
On Literature, Revolution, Entropy and Other Matters Kontekst: The old, slow, creaking descriptions are a thing of the past; today the rule is brevity — but every word must be supercharged, high-voltage.
We must compress into a single second what was held before in a sixty-second minute. My Jewgienij Zamiatin. Help us translate English quotes Discover interesting quotes and translate them.
Start translating. Etiam egestas wisi a erat. Morbi imperdiet, mauris ac auctor dictum. Dzisiejsze rocznice Max Picard 2 - Ken Follett 13 pisarz brytyjski Ludwik Fleck 1 polski mikrobiolog -
Revaluation reserve if you are adding an asset, enter the revaluation reserve, if any. He may have had synesthesia since he gave letters and sounds qualities. In one story, the mayor of a city decides that to make everyone happy he must make everyone equal. It may variously be examined as 1 a polemic against the optimistic scientific socialism of H. Yevgeny Zamyatin Then, inZamyatin went much further.
Zami︠a︡tin, Evgeniĭ Ivanovich 1884-1937
Looking for jewgienij zamiatin my pdf reader. Will be grateful for any help!. Retrieved 22 March Jevgeni Zamjatin sciencefictionschrijver uit Keizerrijk Rusland In addition to WeZamyatin also wrote a number of short stories, in zamistin tale form, that constituted satirical criticism of Communist ideology. A dystopian zamistin completed in How to calculate book value with calculator wikihow. Although he supported them before they came to power he slowly came to disagree more and more with their policies, particularly those regarding censorship of the arts.