Manuscripts Do Not Burn.

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.

Nobody Should Be Whipped. Remember That, Once And For All. Neither Man Nor Animal Can Be Influenced By Anything But Suggestion.

In The First Few Seconds An Aching Sadness Wrenched His Heart, But It Soon Gave Way To A Feeling Of Sweet Disquiet, The Excitement Of Gypsy Wanderlust

Who Ever Told You There Is No Such Thing In The World As Real, True, Everlasting Love? May The Liar Have His Despicable Tongue Cut Out!

I Wouldn’t Like To Meet You When You’ve Got A Revolver,” Said Margarita With A Coquettish Look At Azazello. She Had A Passion For People Who Did Things Well.