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In order to be in control, you have to have a definite plan for at least a reasonable period of time. So how, may I ask, can man be in control if he can't even draw up a plan for a ridiculously short period of time, say, a thousand years, and is, moreover, unable to ensure his own safety for even the next day?

Mikhail Bulgakov

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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
Asks
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Moreover
Next
Plan
Ensure
Order
Periods
Unable
May
Short
Definite
Even
Plans
Reasonable
Years
Thousand
Draw
Men
Control
Period
Time
Least
Safety
Ridiculously

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Love leaped out in front of us like a murderer in an alley leaping out of nowhere, and struck us both at once. As lightning strikes, as a Finnish knife strikes! She, by the way, insisted afterwards that it wasn't so, that we had, of course, loved each other for a long, long time, without knowing each other, never having seen each other.
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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
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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?
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He's clever,' thought Ivan,' I must admit there are some smart people even among the intelligentsia
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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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A dog's spirit dies hard.
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There is no greater misfortune in the world than the loss of reason.
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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.
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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.
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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?
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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.
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Well, as everyone knows, once witchcraft gets started, there's no stopping it.
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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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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.
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Most bad, the host concluded. If you ask me, something sinister lurks in men who avoid wine, games, the company of lovely women, and dinnertime conversation. Such people are either gravely ill or secretly detest everyone around them.
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the hope that there she would manage to regain her happiness made her fearless
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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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Remove the document—and you remove the man.
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Why try to pursue what is completed?
Mikhail Bulgakov
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Follow me, reader! Who told you that there is no true, faithful, eternal love in this world! May the liar's vile tongue be cut out! Follow me, my reader, and me alone, and I will show you such a love!
Mikhail Bulgakov