45 Quotes & Sayings By Mikhail Bulgakov

Mikhail Bulgakov was a Russian writer, playwright, and poet who was born on December 11, 1891. He is known as the most important contributor to Russian literature of the 20th century, and is regarded as one of the greatest writers in the history of the Russian language. His first major published work was The White Guard (1918), which dealt with the stabilization of Bolshevik rule during the Russian Civil War. This was followed by his two most successful plays, The Days of the Turbins (1921) and The Days of The Dead Souls (1922) Read more

Among his best-known novels are The White Guard (1918), Burnt by the Sun (1920), Heart of a Dog (1929), and The Master and Margarita (1967). He also wrote numerous volumes of short stories, plays, essays, and poetry.

1
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
2
But what can be done, the one who loves must share the fate of the one he loves. Mikhail Bulgakov
3
Everything will turn out right, the world is built on that. Mikhail Bulgakov
4
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
5
— But here is a question that is troubling me: if there is no God, then, one may ask, who governs human life and, in general, the whole order of things on earth?— Man governs it himself, — Homeless angrily hastened to reply to this admittedly none-too-clear question.— Pardon me, — the stranger responded gently, — but in order to govern, one needs, after all, to have a precise plan for a certain, at least somewhat decent, length of time. Allow me to ask you, then, how can man govern, if he is not only deprived of the opportunity of making a plan for at least some ridiculously short period, well, say, a thousand years , but cannot even vouch for his own tomorrow? And in fact, — here the stranger turned to Berlioz, — imagine that you, for instance, start governing, giving orders to others and yourself, generally, so to speak, acquire a taste for it, and suddenly you get. .hem. . hem. . lung cancer. . — here the foreigner smiled sweetly, and if the thought of lung cancer gave him pleasure – yes, cancer – narrowing his eyes like a cat, he repeated the sonorous word –and so your governing is over! You are no longer interested in anyone’s fate but your own. Your family starts lying to you. Feeling that something is wrong, you rush to learned doctors, then to quacks, and sometimes to fortune-tellers as well. Like the first, so the second and third are completely senseless, as you understand. And it all ends tragically: a man who still recently thought he was governing something, suddenly winds up lying motionless in a wooden box, and the people around him, seeing that the man lying there is no longer good for anything, burn him in an oven. And sometimes it’s worse still: the man has just decided to go to Kislovodsk — here the foreigner squinted at Berlioz — a trifling matter, it seems, but even this he cannot accomplish, because suddenly, no one knows why, he slips and falls under a tram-car! Are you going to say it was he who governed himself that way? Would it not be more correct to think that he was governed by someone else entirely?. Mikhail Bulgakov
6
How sad, ye Gods, how sad the world is at evening, how mysterious the mists over the swamps! You will know it when you have wandered astray in those mists, when you have suffered greatly before dying, when you have walked through the world carrying an unbearable burden. You know it too when you are weary and ready to leave this earth without regret; its mists; its swamps and its rivers; ready to give yourself into the arms of death with a light heart, knowing that death alone can comfort you. Mikhail Bulgakov
Cowardice is the most terrible of vices.
7
Cowardice is the most terrible of vices. Mikhail Bulgakov
8
If you’ve been exiled, why don’t you send me word of yourself? People do send word. Have you stopped loving me? No, for some reason I don’t believe that. It means you were exiled and died … Release me, then, I beg you, give me freedom to live, finally, to breathe the air! …’ Margarita Nikolaevna answered for him herself: ’You are free … am I holding you?’ Then she objected to him: ’No, what kind of answer is that? No, go from my memory, then I’ll be free … . Mikhail Bulgakov
I don't have any special talents, just an ordinary desire...
9
I don't have any special talents, just an ordinary desire to live like a human being. Mikhail Bulgakov
10
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. Mikhail Bulgakov
11
Why do smart people exist, if not to figure out convoluted problems? Mikhail Bulgakov
12
You should never ask anyone for anything. Never- and especially from those who are more powerful than yourself. Mikhail Bulgakov
13
Annushka has already bought the sunflower oil, and has not only bought it, but has already spilled it. Mikhail Bulgakov
14
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
15
Happiness is like good health: when you have it, you don’t notice it. But as the years go by, oh, the memories, the memories of happiness past! Mikhail Bulgakov
16
And now tell me, why is it that you use me words "good people" all the time? Do you call everyone that, or what?- Everyone, - the prisoner replied. - There are no evil people in the world.(- А Ñ‚еперь скажи мне, чÑ‚о эÑ‚о Ñ‚Ñ‹ все время упоÑ‚ребляешь слова добрÑ‹елюди"? ТÑ‹ всех, чÑ‚о ли, Ñ‚ак назÑ‹ваешь?- Всех, - оÑ‚веÑ‚ил аресÑ‚анÑ‚, - злÑ‹х людей неÑ‚ на свеÑ‚е.) . Mikhail Bulgakov
17
Jesus to Pilate:"The trouble is, " the bound man went on, not stopping by anyone, "that you are too closed off and have definitely lost faith in people. You must agree, one can't place all one's affection in a dog. Your life is impoverished, Hegemon. Mikhail Bulgakov
18
I must give due praise to the man who first extracted morphine from poppyheads. He was a true benefactor of mankind. The pain stopped seven minutes after the injection. Interesting: the pain passed over me in ceaseless waves, so that I had to gasp for breath, as though a red-hot crowbar were being thrust into my stomach and rotated. Four minutes after the injection I was able to distinguish the wave-like nature of the pain. Mikhail Bulgakov
19
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
20
No one's fate is of any interest to you except your own. Mikhail Bulgakov
21
But would you kindly ponder this question: What would your good do if evil didn't exist, and what would the earth look like if all the shadows disappeared? After all, shadows are cast by things and people. Here is the shadow of my sword. But shadows also come from trees and living beings. Do you want to strip the earth of all trees and living things just because of your fantasy of enjoying naked light? You're stupid. . Mikhail Bulgakov
22
What would your good do if evil didn't exist, and what would the earth look like if all the shadows disappeared? Mikhail Bulgakov
23
You spoke your words as though you denied the very existence of the shadows or of evil. Think, now: where would your good be if there were no evil and what would the world look like without shadow? Mikhail Bulgakov
24
Man is mortal, and as the professor so rightly said mortality can come so suddenly Mikhail Bulgakov
25
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
26
The tongue may hide the truth but the eyes–never! Mikhail Bulgakov
27
Everyone listened to this amusing narrative with great interest, and the moment that Behemoth concluded it, they all shouted in unison: 'Lies! Mikhail Bulgakov
28
You were right, " said the Master impressed by the neatness of Korovyov's work, "when you said: no documents, no person. So that means I don't exist since I don't have any documents. Mikhail Bulgakov
29
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
30
I suppose that in no educational institution can one become an educated person. Mikhail Bulgakov
31
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
32
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
33
I believe you! ' the artiste exclaimed finally and extinguishes his gaze. 'I do! These eyes are not lying! How many times have I told you that your basic error consists in underestimating the significance of the human eye. Understand that the tongue can conceal the truth, but the eyes - never! A sudden question is put to you, you don't even flinch, in one second you get hold of yourself and know what you must say to conceal the truth, and you speak quite convincingly, and not a wrinkle on your face moves, but - alas - the truth which the question stirs up from the bottom of your soul leaps momentarily into your eyes, and it's all over! They see it, and you're caught! . Mikhail Bulgakov
34
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
35
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
36
A book is open in front of me and this is what it has tosay about the symptoms of morphine withdrawal:'.. morbid anxiety, a nervous depressed condition, irritability, weakening of the memory, occasionalhallucinations and a mild impairment of consciousness..' I have not experienced any hallucinations, but I canonly say that the rest of this description is dull, pedestrianand totally inadequate.' Depressed condition' indeed! Having suffered from this appalling malady, I hereby enjoinall doctors to be more compassionate toward theirpatients. What overtakes the addict deprived of morphinefor a mere hour or two is not a 'depressed condition': it isslow death. Air is insubstantial, gulping it down is useless.. there is not a cell in one's body that does not crave.. but crave what? This is something which defies analysisand explanation. In short, the individual ceases to exist:he is eliminated. The body which moves, agonises andsuffers is a corpse. It wants nothing, can think of nothingbut morphine. To die of thirst is a heavenly, blissful deathcompared with the craving for morphine. The feeling mustbe something like that of a man buried alive, clawing at theskin on his chest in the effort to catch the last tiny bubblesof air in his coffin, or of a heretic at the stake, groaning andwrithing as the first tongues of flame lick at his feet. Death. A dry, slow death. That is what lurks behindthat clinical, academic phrase 'a depressed condition'. Mikhail Bulgakov
37
I, the unfortunate Doctor Polyakov, who became addicted to morphine in February of this year, warn anyone who may suffer the same fate not to attempt to replace morphine with cocaine. Cocaine is a most foul and insidious poison. Yesterday Anna barely managed to revive me with camphor injections and today I am half dead. Mikhail Bulgakov
38
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
39
Once more and for the last time, the moon flashed above and broke into pieces, and then everything went black. Mikhail Bulgakov
40
Nobody should be whipped. Remember that, once and for all. Neither man nor animal can be influenced by anything but suggestion. Mikhail Bulgakov
41
Ruin, therefore, is not caused by lavatories but it's something that starts in people's heads. So when these clowns start shouting "Stop the ruin! " - I laugh! ' 'I swear to you, I find it laughable! Every one of them needs to hit himself on the back of the head and then when he has knocked all the hallucinations out of himself and gets on with sweeping out backyards - which is his real job - all this "ruin" will automatically disappear . Mikhail Bulgakov
42
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
43
Don’t be afraid, Queen, the blood has long run down into the earth. And on the spot where it was spilled, grapevines are growing today. Mikhail Bulgakov
44
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