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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.

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
Long
Queens
Afraid
Already
Blood
Growing
Since
Grapevine
Gone
Spilled
Earth
Queen

More quotes by Mikhail Bulgakov

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I challenge you to a duel!” screamed the cat, sailing over their heads on the swinging chandelier.
Mikhail Bulgakov
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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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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
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Difficult folk, these women!
Mikhail Bulgakov
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Manuscripts don't burn.
Mikhail Bulgakov
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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?
Mikhail Bulgakov
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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
Mikhail Bulgakov
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You should never ask anyone for anything. Never- and especially from those who are more powerful than yourself.
Mikhail Bulgakov
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Cowardice is the most terrible of vices.
Mikhail Bulgakov
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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!
Mikhail Bulgakov
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A dog's spirit dies hard.
Mikhail Bulgakov
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Once in 1919, when I was traveling at night by train, I wrote a short story. In the town where the train stopped, I took the story to the publisher of the newspaper who published the story.
Mikhail Bulgakov
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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!
Mikhail Bulgakov
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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.
Mikhail Bulgakov
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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.
Mikhail Bulgakov
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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?
Mikhail Bulgakov
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He's clever,' thought Ivan,' I must admit there are some smart people even among the intelligentsia
Mikhail Bulgakov
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The darkness that had come in from the Mediterranean covered the city so detested by the procurator.
Mikhail Bulgakov
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For some reason, cats are usually addressed familiarly, though no cat has ever drunk bruderschaft with anyone.
Mikhail Bulgakov
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Is that vodka? Margarita asked weakly. The cat jumped up in his seat with indignation. I beg pardon, my queen, he rasped, Would I ever allow myself to offer vodka to a lady? This is pure alcohol!
Mikhail Bulgakov