This twenty-year-old boy was distinguished from childhood by strange qualities, a dreamer and an eccentric. A girl fell in love with him, and he went and sold her to a brothel... — Mikhail Bulgakov Copy Share Image
“The Procurator did not squint because the sun dazzled him. No! For some reason, he did not want to see the group of condemned… — Mikhail Bulgakov Copy Share Image
If it is true that cowardice is the most grave vice, then the dog, at least, is not guilty of it. — Mikhail Bulgakov Copy Share Image
“-No, to rzeczywiście nie są pieniądze – lekceważąco powiedział do swego gościa Woland – chociaż szczerze mówiąc, nawet tyle nie jest panu potrzebne. -… — Mikhail Bulgakov Copy Share Image
The tongue can conceal the truth, but the eyes never! You're asked an unexpected question, you don't even flinch, it takes just a second… — Mikhail Bulgakov Copy Share Image
This twenty-year-old boy was distinguished from childhood by strange qualities, a dreamer and an eccentric. A girl fell in love with him, and he… — Mikhail Bulgakov Copy Share Image
“You should never ask anyone for anything. Never—and especially from those who are more powerful than yourself. They will make the offer and they… — Mikhail Bulgakov Copy Share Image
“Too bad!' the feisty poet responded. 'Yes, too bad!' the stranger agreed, his eye flashing, and went on: 'But here is a question that… — Mikhail Bulgakov Copy Share Image
“Don't be afraid, your majesty... Don't be afraid, your majesty, the blood has long since drained away into the earth and grapes have grown… — Mikhail Bulgakov Copy Share Image
“But this is what disturbs me: if there is no God, then, the question is, who is in control of man's life and the… — Mikhail Bulgakov Copy Share Image
“If you’ve been exiled, why don’t you send me word of yourself? People do send word. Have you stopped loving me? No, for some… — Mikhail Bulgakov Copy Share Image
“Tu nieznajomy uprzejmie zdjął beret i pisarzom nie pozostawało nic innego, jak wstać i ukłonić się.” — Mikhail Bulgakov Copy Share Image
“Thou art a black God! I curse Thee, God of thieves, their soul and protector! (191)” — Mikhail Bulgakov Copy Share Image
“-No, więc ja wysłałem depeszę. I co dalej? Popławskiemu zawirowało w głowie, stracił władzę w rękach i nogach, wypuścił z ręki walizkę i opadł… — Mikhail Bulgakov Copy Share Image
