Yes, Man Is Mortal, But That Would

Difficult Folk, These Women!

Once In 1919, When I Was Traveling At Night By Train, I Wrote A Short Story. In The Town Where The Train Stopped, I Took The Story To The Publisher Of The Newspaper Who Published The Story.

He's Clever,' Thought Ivan,' I Must Admit There Are Some Smart People Even Among The Intelligentsia

The Darkness That Had Come In From The Mediterranean Covered The City So Detested By The Procurator.

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!