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Cowardice was undoubtedly one of the most terrible vices - thus spoke Yeshua Ha-Nozri. 'No, philosopher, I disagree with you: it is the most terrible vice!
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But worse things were about to be found in the bedroom: on the jeweller’s wife’s ottoman, in a casual pose, sprawled a third party- namely, a black cat of uncanny size, with a glass of vodka in one paw and a fork, on which he had managed to spear a pickled mushroom, in the other. , The Master and Magarita
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I challenge you to a duel!” screamed the cat, sailing over their heads on the swinging chandelier.
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Foreign visitors . . . how impressed you all are with foreign visitors! But they come in many different varieties.
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The tongue may hide the truth but the eyes—never!
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I had the pleasure of meeting that young man at the Patriarch's Ponds. He almost drove me mad myself, proving to me that I don't exist. But you do believe that it is really I?
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The hope that there she would manage to regain her happiness made her fearless.
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The most amazing combinations can result if you shuffle the pack enough.
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If it is true that cowardice is the most grave vice, then the dog, at least, is not guilty of it.
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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 shadow of my sword. But shadows also come from trees and living beings. Do you want to strip the earth of all trees and living things just because of your fantasy of enjoying naked light? You're stupid.
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You should never ask anyone for anything. Never- and especially from those who are more powerful than yourself.
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You were right," said the Master impressed by the neatness of Korovyov's work, "when you said: no documents, no person. So that means I don't exist since I don't have any documents.
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Literature has become my life.
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For some reason, cats are usually addressed familiarly, though no cat has ever drunk bruderschaft with anyone.
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But what can be done, the one who loves must share the fate of the who is loved.
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Yes, man is mortal, but that would be only half the trouble. The worst of it is that he's sometimes unexpectedly mortal—there's the trick!
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He who never hurries is always on time.
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There's only one degree of freshness — the first, which makes it also the last.
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Don't be afraid, Queen ... don't be afraid, Queen, the blood has long since gone into the earth. And where it was spilled, grapevines are already growing.
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I hereby certify that the bearer of this note, Nikolai Ivanovich, spent the night in question at Satan's ball, having been lured there in a transportational capacity... Hella, put in parentheses! And write 'hog.' Signed- Behemoth.
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Difficult folk, these women!
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A dog's spirit dies hard.
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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 to get yourself under control, you know just what you have to say to hide the truth, and you speak very convincingly, and nothing in your face twitches to give you away. But the truth, alas, has been disturbed by the question, and it rises up from the depths of your soul to flicker in your eyes and all is lost.
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No one's fate is of any interest to you except your own.