Yevgeny Zamyatin — We [614]

Suddenly—a cloud, a swift slanting shadow, and the ice turned leaden, swelled as the ice on a river in springtime, when you are standing on the bank and waiting: a moment, and everything will burst, spill over, whirl, and rush downstream. But minutes pass, and the ice still holds; and you feel as though you yourself were swelling, and your heart beats faster, faster, with mounting disquiet — Yevgeny Zamyatin, We, 614

Note

The transition from abstract meteorological observation to psychological swelling, captured through the rhythmic hesitation of the prose.