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“The poet had wasted his night while others had spent it enjoying themselves and now he realized that it was lost forever.”
― The Master and Margarita
― The Master and Margarita
“A wave of grief surged up at the terrible news about Mikhail Alexandrovich. Someone fussed around shouting that they must all immediately, here and now, without delay compose a collective telegram and send it off.
But what telegram, you may ask? And why send it?
Send it where? And what use is a telegram to the man whose battered skull is being mauled by the rubber hands of a dissector, whose neck is being pierced by the professor's crooked needles? He's dead, he doesn't want a telegram. It's all over, let's not overload the post office.
Yes, he's dead ... but we are still alive!
The wave of grief rose, lasted for a while and then began to recede.”
― The Master and Margarita
But what telegram, you may ask? And why send it?
Send it where? And what use is a telegram to the man whose battered skull is being mauled by the rubber hands of a dissector, whose neck is being pierced by the professor's crooked needles? He's dead, he doesn't want a telegram. It's all over, let's not overload the post office.
Yes, he's dead ... but we are still alive!
The wave of grief rose, lasted for a while and then began to recede.”
― The Master and Margarita
Anana’s 2025 Year in Books
Take a look at Anana’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
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