The palm at the end of the mind, beyond the last thought, rises in the bronze distance. A gold feathered bird sings in the palm, without human meaning, without human feeling, a foreign song. You know then that it is not the reason that makes us happy or unhappy.
The bird sings. Its feathers shine. The palm stands on the edge of space. The wind moves slowly in the branches. The bird's fire-fangled feathers dangle down.

Friday, November 23, 2007

MASTER

'Bear in mind that Jesus did exist.'
`You see. Professor,' Berlioz responded with a forced smile, `we
respect your great learning, but on this question we hold to a different
point of view.'
`There's no need for any points of view,' the strange professor
replied, 'he simply existed, that's all.'
'But there's need for some proof...' Berlioz began.
"There's no need for any proofs,' replied the professor, and he began
to speak softly, while his accent for some reason disappeared: 'It's all
very simple: In a white cloak with blood-red lining, with the shuffling gait
of a cavalryman, early in the morning of the fourteenth day of the spring
month of Nissan...'[27]

Master and Margarita

for Alex

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