Obedient To Constraint, I Was Compelled To

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.

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 Two 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.

There's Only One Degree Of Freshness — The First, Which Makes It Also The Last

I Had The Pleasure Of Meeting That Young Man At The Patriarch's Ponds. He Almost Drove Me Mad Myself, Proving To Me That I Don't Exist. But You Do Believe That It Is Really I?

Nobody Should Be Whipped. Remember That, Once And For All. Neither Man Nor Animal Can Be Influenced By Anything But Suggestion.