During The Last Years Of Mayakovski's Life,

The Writer Is The Faust Of Modern Society, The Only Surviving Individualist In A Mass Age. To His Orthodox Contemporaries He Seems A Semi-madman.

No Single Man Makes History. History Cannot Be Seen Just As One Cannot See Grass Growing.

Departure Beyond The Borders Of My Country Is For Me Equivalent To Death.

But What Are Pity, Conscience, Or Fear To The Brazen Pair, Compared With The Living Sorcery Of Their Hot Embraces?

What You Don't Understand Is That It Is Possible To Be An Atheist, It Is Possible Not To Know If God Exists Or Why He Should, And Yet To Believe That Man Does Not Live In A State Of Nature But In History, And That History As We Know It Now Began With Christ, It Was Founded By Him On The Gospels.