Quote

There's only one degree of freshness — the first, which makes it also the last

Mikhail Bulgakov

Change background

T
T
T

Change font

TAGS & TOPICS

Mikhail Bulgakov
Age: 48 †
Born: 1891
Born: May 15
Died: 1940
Died: March 10
Actor
Biographer
Journalist
Librettist
Novelist
Physician
Physician Writer
Playwright
Satirist
Science Fiction Writer
Screenwriter
Kiev
Mikhael Bulgakov
Mikhail Afanasyevich Bulgakov
Also
Firsts
First
Freshness
Degree
Degrees
Lasts
Last
Makes

More quotes by Mikhail Bulgakov

Image
Allow me to inquire how man can control his own affairs when he is not only incapable of compiling a plan for some laughably short term such as, say, a thousand years, but cannot even predict what will happen to him tomorrow?
Mikhail Bulgakov
Image
The darkness that had come in from the Mediterranean covered the city so detested by the procurator.
Mikhail Bulgakov
Image
Difficult folk, these women!
Mikhail Bulgakov
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 went and sold her to a brothel.
Mikhail Bulgakov
Image
Actually, I do happen to resemble a hallucination. Kindly note my silhouette in the moonlight. The cat climbed into the shaft of moonlight and wanted to keep talking but was asked to be quiet. Very well, I shall be silent, he replied, I shall be a silent hallucination.
Mikhail Bulgakov
Image
You are not Dostoevsky,' said the woman... 'You never can tell...' he answered. 'Dostoevsky is dead,' the woman said, a bit uncertainly. 'I protest!' he said with heat, 'Dostoevsky is immortal!
Mikhail Bulgakov
Image
Not fooling around, not bothering nobody, just sitting here mending the Primus, said the cat with a hostile frown, and, moreover, I consider it my duty to warn you that the cat is an ancient, inviolable animal.
Mikhail Bulgakov
Image
Margarita was never short of money. She could buy whatever she liked. Her husband had plenty of interesting friends. Margarita never had to cook. Margarita knew nothing of the horrors of living in a shared flat. In short... was she happy? Not for a moment.
Mikhail Bulgakov
Image
Manuscripts do not burn.
Mikhail Bulgakov
Image
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
Mikhail Bulgakov
Image
Manuscripts don't burn.
Mikhail Bulgakov
Image
What would your good do if evil didn't exist, and what would the earth look like if all the shadows disappeared?
Mikhail Bulgakov
Image
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.
Mikhail Bulgakov
Image
Everything passes away-suffering,pain, blood, hunger,pestilence. The sword will pass away too, but the stars will remain when the shadows of our presence and our deeds have vanished from the Earth. There is no man who does not know that. Why, then, will we not turn our eyes toward the stars? Why?
Mikhail Bulgakov
Image
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.
Mikhail Bulgakov
Image
You should never ask anyone for anything. Never- and especially from those who are more powerful than yourself.
Mikhail Bulgakov
Image
For some reason, cats are usually addressed familiarly, though no cat has ever drunk bruderschaft with anyone.
Mikhail Bulgakov
Image
He's clever,' thought Ivan,' I must admit there are some smart people even among the intelligentsia
Mikhail Bulgakov
Image
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!
Mikhail Bulgakov
Image
What's the use of dying in a ward surrounded by a lot of groaning and croaking incurables? Wouldn't it be much better to throw a party with that twenty-seven thousand and take poison and depart for the other world to the sound of violins, surrounded by lovely drunken girls and happy friends?
Mikhail Bulgakov