A Young Doctor's Notebook and Other Stories 2×4

& Anna: Just like a sister to me.
    Feldsher: Oh. More like a daughter.

& Bomgard Young: If there is a crumb of solace to be taken from this tragedy, it is the knowledge that there is nothing any of us, any of us, could have done.

& Feldsher: Bolsheviks, no more than 15 versts from here.
    Colonel: What are they doing?
    Feldsher: Well, they want common ownership of the land and industry and end to the class system.
    Colonel: Not now.

& Bomgard Young: Stay here, you can have Pelageya’s papers, she’s dead. Pretend to be a midwife, or pretend to be my wife, or be my wife.

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& Bomgard Young: Women, eh?
    Feldsher: I’m no expert.

& Feldsher: Doctor, a friend of mine is in mortal danger, a very dear friend of mine. He’s the only man I’ve ever... known to appreciate nuances of a good atlas. Or a perfectly delivered anecdote. A man who appreciates a pickled sprat and a walk in the glade. Although, obviously not at the same time.

& Feldsher: Come on doctor, only 40 versts to go.

& Bomgard Young: I’m an addict, I’m a hopeless addict. There’s nothing I can do. None of this is my fault. I can’t be the man you want me to be. I don’t want love, I don’t want forgiveness, I just want morphine.

& Bomgard Old: Sorry, I’m late.

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