The Master and Margarita

“What’s the matter, don’t you like my poetry?” asked Ivan with curiosity.
“Emphatically not.” “And what have you read?”
“I haven’t read any of your poetry!” retorted the visitor irritably.
“Then how can you tell?”
“Well,” replied the guest, “it’s not as if I haven’t read other things like it, now is it? But maybe, by some miracle, yours is different? All right, I’m ready to take it on faith. Tell me yourself, are your poems any good?”
 “Horrible!” Ivan blurted out boldly and frankly.
“Don’t write any more!” the newcomer implored.
“I promise you, I swear I won’t!” was Ivan’s solemn reply.
They sealed the vow with a handshake, and then the sounds of soft footsteps and voices were heard from the corridor.