The buckets emptied quickly, and men from different squads took turns bringing water from the gully that lay towards the city, where, in the feeble shade of emaciated mulberries, a muddy stream lived out its last days in the diabolical heat.

— Mikhail Bulgakov

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.

— Mikhail Bulgakov

The tongue may hide the truth but the eyes—never!

— Mikhail Bulgakov

The whole horror of the situation is that he now has a human heart, not a dog's heart. And about the rottenest heart in all creation!

— Mikhail Bulgakov

What is all this? Get him out of here, devil take me!” And that one, imagine, smiles and says: “Devil take you? That, in fact, can be done!” And—bang!

— Mikhail Bulgakov

What point is there in dying in a ward, listening to the moans and rasps of the terminally ill? Wouldn't it be better to spend the twenty-seven thousand on a banquet, then, after taking poison, depart for the other world to the sound of violins, surrounded by intoxicated beautiful women and dashing friends?

— Mikhail Bulgakov

What would your good do if evil didn't exist, and what would the earth look like if all the shadows disappeared?

— Mikhail Bulgakov

Why do smart people exist, if not to figure out convoluted problems?

— Mikhail Bulgakov

Yes, man is mortal, but that would be only half the trouble. The worst of it is that he's sometimes unexpectedly mortal—there's the trick!

— Mikhail Bulgakov

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