Koroviev stopped by the railing and said:
"Ah! But this is the writers' house! You know, Behemoth, I have heard a great many favorable commnents on this house. Look at it, my friend. It is a pleasant thought that a veritable horde of talents is sheltered and nurtured to maturity under this roof."
"Like pineapples in a green house," said Behemoth, climbing up the concrete base of the cast-iron railing for a better view of the cream-colored building.
"Perfectly true," Koroviev agreed with his inseparable companion. "And a sweet chill numbs your heart to think that a future author of a Don Quixote or a Faust, or, the devil take me, a Dead Souls may be ripening here, before your eyes! Eh?"
"A horrible thought," Behemoth agreed.
Mikhail Bulgakov, The Master and Margarita