Manuscripts Don't Burn.

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?

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.

The Cat, Covered In Dust And Standing On Its Hind Legs, Bowed To Margarita. Round Its Neck It Was Now Wearing A Made-up White Bow Tie On An Elastic Band, With A Pair Of Ladies’ Mother-of-pearl Binoculars Hanging On A Cord. It Had Also Gilded Its Whiskers.

The Procurator Studied The New Arrival With Avid, And Slightly Fearful Eyes. It Was The Kind Of Look One Gives Someone One Has Heard Of And Thought A Lot About, And Whom One Is Meeting For The First Time.

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.