Dr Zhivago Book Novels & Stories

“You are American, mooncalf, get over it. You may have Russian blood, but you were born in the land of the fat, obnoxious and complacent.” “I am glad you think so highly of my heritage,” Anya snapped. She stuck out her tongue and crossed her arms. The engaged in a death glare match. “Enough, the both of you. I have had a long day’s work of herding animals and tending the trees, and I came home seeking peace, not squabbling,” Dmitri said. He sat beside the stove and began perusing his worn illicit copy of Mikhail Bulgakov's The Master and the Margarita, bought from a black market in Moscow.