What's the use of dying in a ward surrounded by a lot of groaning and croaking incurables? Wouldn't it be much better… — Mikhail Bulgakov Copy Share Image
Allow me to inquire how man can control his own affairs when he is not only incapable of compiling a plan for… — Mikhail Bulgakov Copy Share Image
In order to be in control, you have to have a definite plan for at least a reasonable period of time. So… — 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
