How sad, ye Gods, how sad the world is at evening, how mysterious the mists over the swamps! You will know it when you have wandered astray in those mists, when you have suffered greatly before dying, when you have… — Mikhail Bulgakov Copy Share Image
But would you kindly ponder this question: What would your good do if evil didn't exist, and what would the earth look like if all the shadows disappeared? After all, shadows are cast by things and people. Here is the… — 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
