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You're not Dostoevsky,' said the citizeness, who was getting muddled by Koroviev. Well, who knows, who knows,' he replied. 'Dostoevsky's dead,' said the citizeness, but somehow not very confidently. 'I protest!' Behemoth exclaimed hotly. 'Dostoevsky is immortal!
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The hope that there she would manage to regain her happiness made her fearless.
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He was coming to understand he could not come to rectify anything in his life, only forget.
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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 walked through the world carrying an unbearable burden. You know it two when you are weary and ready to leave this earth without regret; its mists; its swamps and its rivers; ready to give yourself into the arms of death with a light heart, knowing that death alone can comfort you.
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The tongue may hide the truth but the eyes—never!
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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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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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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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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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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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Literature has become my life.
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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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There's only one degree of freshness — the first, which makes it also the last.
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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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He who never hurries is always on time.
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A dog's spirit dies hard.
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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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But what can be done, the one who loves must share the fate of the who is loved.
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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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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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Azazello begged her not to worry, assuring her that he had seen not only naked women but also women with their skin flayed clean off.
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No one's fate is of any interest to you except your own.
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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!