The Project Gutenberg EBook of The French Immortals, by Various
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Title: The French Immortals
Quotes And Images
Author: Various
Editor: David Widger
Release Date: July 13, 2009 [EBook #29402]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FRENCH IMMORTALS ***
Produced by David Widger
THE FRENCH IMMORTALS
<
CONTENTS
THE INK STAIN, By Rene Bazin
|
All that a name is to a street—
its honor, its spouse
Came not in single spies, but in
battalions
Distrust first impulse
Felix culpa
Happy men don't need company
Hard that one can not live one's life
over twice
He always loved to pass for being
overwhelmed with work
I don't call that fishing
If trouble awaits us, hope will steal
us a happy hour or two
Lends—I should say gives
Men forget sooner
Natural only when alone, and talk well
only to themselves
Obstacles are the salt of all our joys
One doesn't offer apologies to a man in
his wrath
People meeting to "have it out" usually
say nothing at first
Silence, alas! is not the reproof of
kings alone
Skilful actor, who apes all the
emotions while feeling none
Sorrows shrink into insignificance as
the horizon broadens
Surprise goes for so much in what we
admire
The very smell of books is improving
The looks of the young are always full
of the future
There are some blunders that are lucky;
but you can't tell
To be your own guide doubles your
pleasure
You a law student, while our farmers
are in want of hands
You must always first get the tobacco
to burn evenly
You ask Life for certainties, as if she
had any to give you
|
JACQUELINE, By Therese Bentzon (Mme. Blanc)
|
A familiarity which, had he known it,
was not flattering
A mother's geese are always swans
As we grow older we lay aside harsh
judgments and sharp words
Bathers, who exhibited themselves in
all degrees of ugliness
Blow which annihilates our supreme
illusion
Death is not that last sleep
Fool (there is no cure for that
infirmity)
Fred's verses were not good, but they
were full of dejection
Great interval between a dream and its
execution
Hang out the bush, but keep no tavern
His sleeplessness was not the insomnia
of genius
Importance in this world are as easily
swept away as the sand
Music—so often dangerous to married
happiness
Natural longing, that we all have,
to know the worst
Notion of her husband's having an
opinion of his own
Old women—at least thirty years old!
Pride supplies some sufferers with
necessary courage
Seemed to enjoy themselves, or made
believe they did
Seldom troubled himself to please any
one he did not care for
Small women ought not to grow stout
Sympathetic listening, never having
herself anything to say
The bandage love ties over the eyes
of men
The worst husband is always better
than none
This unending warfare we call love
Unwilling to leave him to the repose
he needed
Waste all that upon a thing that nobody
will ever look at
Women who are thirty-five should never
weep
|
GERFAUT, By Charles de Bernard
|
Antipathy for her husband bordering
upon aversion
Attractions that difficulties give
to pleasure
Attractive abyss of drunkenness
Consented to become a wife so as not
to remain a maiden
Despotic tone which a woman assumes
when sure of her empire
Evident that the man was above his
costume; a rare thing!
I believed it all; one is so happy to
believe!
It is a terrible step for a woman to
take, from No to Yes
Lady who requires urging, although she
is dying to sing
Let them laugh that win!
Let ultra-modesty destroy poetry
Love is a fire whose heat dies out for
want of fuel
Mania for fearing that she may be
compromised
Material in you to make one of Cooper's
redskins
Misfortunes never come single
No woman is unattainable, except when
she loves another
Obstinacy of drunkenness
Recourse to concessions is often as
fatal to women as to kings
Regards his happiness as a proof of
superiority
She said yes, so as not to say no
These are things that one admits only
to himself
Those whom they most amuse are those
who are best worth amusing
Topics that occupy people who meet for
the first time
Trying to conceal by a smile (a blush)
When one speaks of the devil he appears
Wiped his nose behind his hat, like a
well-bred orator
You are playing 'who loses wins!'
|
COSMOPOLIS, By Paul Bourget
|
Conditions of blindness so voluntary
that they become complicity
Despotism natural to puissant
personalities
Egyptian tobacco, mixed with opium and
saltpetre
Follow their thoughts instead of
heeding objects
Has as much sense as the handle of a
basket
Have never known in the morning what I
would do in the evening
I no longer love you
Imagine what it would be never to have
been born
Mediocre sensibility
Melancholy problem of the birth and
death of love
Mobile and complaisant conscience had
already forgiven himself
No flies enter a closed mouth
Not an excuse, but an explanation of
your conduct
One of those trustful men who did not
judge when they loved
Only one thing infamous in love, and
that is a falsehood
Pitiful checker-board of life
Scarcely a shade of gentle
condescension
Sufficed him to conceive the plan of a
reparation
That suffering which curses but does
not pardon
That you can aid them in leading better
lives?
The forests have taught man liberty
There is an intelligent man, who never
questions his ideas
There is always and everywhere a duty
to fulfil
Thinking it better not to lie on minor
points
Too prudent to risk or gain much
Walked at the rapid pace characteristic
of monomaniacs
Words are nothing; it is the tone in
which they are uttered
|
PRINCE ZILAH, By Jules Claretie
|
A man's life belongs to his duty,
and not to his happiness
All defeats have their geneses
An hour of rest between two ordeals,
a smile between two sobs
Anonymous, that velvet mask of
scandal-mongers
At every step the reality splashes you
with mud
Bullets are not necessarily on the side
of the right
Does one ever forget?
Foreigners are more Parisian than the
Parisians themselves
History is written, not made.
"I might forgive," said Andras; "but I
could not forget"
If well-informed people are to be
believe
Insanity is, perhaps, simply the ideal
realized
It is so good to know nothing, nothing,
nothing
Let the dead past bury its dead!
Life is a tempest
Man who expects nothing of life except
its ending
Nervous natures, as prompt to hope as
to despair
No answer to make to one who has no
right to question me
Not only his last love, but his only
love
Nothing ever astonishes me
One of those beings who die, as they
have lived, children
Pessimism of to-day sneering at his
confidence of yesterday
Playing checkers, that mimic warfare of
old men
Poverty brings wrinkles
Sufferer becomes, as it were, enamored
of his own agony
Superstition which forbids one to
proclaim his happiness
Taken the times as they are
The Hungarian was created on horseback
There were too many discussions, and
not enough action
Unable to speak, for each word would
have been a sob
What matters it how much we suffer
Why should I read the newspapers?
Willingly seek a new sorrow
Would not be astonished at anything
You suffer? Is fate so just as that
|
A ROMANCE OF YOUTH, By Francois Coppee
|
Break in his memory, like a book with
several leaves torn out
Dreams, instead of living
Egotists and cowards always have a
reason for everything
Eternally condemned to kill each other
in order to live
Fortunate enough to keep those one
loves
God forgive the timid and the prattler!
Good form consists, above all things,
in keeping silent
Happiness exists only by snatches and
lasts only a moment
He does not know the miseries of
ambition and vanity
He almost regretted her
How sad these old memorics are in the
autumn
Inoffensive tree which never had harmed
anybody
Intimate friend, whom he has known for
about five minutes
It was all delightfully terrible!
Learned that one leaves college almost
ignorant
Mild, unpretentious men who let
everybody run over them
My good fellow, you are quite worthless
as a man of pleasure
Never travel when the heart is
troubled!
Not more honest than necessary
Now his grief was his wife, and lived
with him
Paint from nature
Poor France of Jeanne d'Arc and of
Napoleon
Redouble their boasting after each
defeat
Society people condemned to hypocrisy
and falsehood
Take their levity for heroism
Tediousness seems to ooze out through
their bindings
The leaves fall! the leaves fall!
The sincere age when one thinks aloud
Tired smile of those who have not long
to live
Trees are like men; there are some that
have no luck
Universal suffrage, with its accustomed
intelligence
Upon my word, there are no ugly ones
(women)
Very young, and was in love with love
Voice of the heart which alone has
power to reach the heart
Were certain against all reason
When he sings, it is because he has
something to sing about
|
FROMONT AND RISLER, By Alphonse Daudet
|
A man may forgive, but he never forgets
Abundant details which he sometimes
volunteered
Affectation of indifference
Always smiling condescendingly
Charm of that one day's rest and its
solemnity
Clashing knives and forks mark time
Convent of Saint Joseph, four shoes
under the bed!
Deeming every sort of occupation
beneath him
Dreams of wealth and the disasters that
immediately followed
Exaggerated dramatic pantomime
Faces taken by surprise allow their
real thoughts to be seen
He fixed the time mentally when he
would speak
Little feathers fluttering for an
opportunity to fly away
Make for themselves a horizon of the
neighboring walls and roofs
No one has ever been able to find out
what her thoughts were
Pass half the day in procuring two
cakes, worth three sous
She was of those who disdain no
compliment
Such artificial enjoyment, such idiotic
laughter
Superiority of the man who does nothing
over the man who works
Terrible revenge she would take
hereafter for her sufferings
The poor must pay for all their
enjoyments
The groom isn't handsome, but the
bride's as pretty as a picture
Void in her heart, a place made ready
for disasters to come
Wiping his forehead ostentatiously
Word "sacrifice," so vague on careless
lips
Would have liked him to be blind only
so far as he was concerned
|
CINQ MARS, By Alfred de Vigny
|
A cat is a very fine animal. It is a
drawing-room tiger
A queen's country is where her throne
is
Adopted fact is always better composed
than the real one
Advantage that a calm temper gives one
over men
All that he said, I had already thought
Always the first word which is the most
difficult to say
Ambition is the saddest of all hopes
Art is the chosen truth
Artificialities of style of that period
Artistic Truth, more lofty than the
True
As Homer says, "smiling under tears"
Assume with others the mien they wore
toward him
But how avenge one's self on silence?
Dare now to be silent when I have told
you these things
Daylight is detrimental to them
Deny the spirit of self-sacrifice
Difference which I find between Truth
in art and the True in fac
Doubt, the greatest misery of love
Friendship exists only in independence
and a kind of equality
Happy is he who does not outlive his
youth
Hatred of everything which is superior
to myself
He did not blush to be a man, and he
spoke to men with force
Hermits can not refrain from inquiring
what men say of them
History too was a work of art
I have burned all the bridges behind me
In pitying me he forgot himself
In every age we laugh at the costume of
our fathers
In times like these we must see all and
say all
It is not now what it used to be
It is too true that virtue also has its
blush
Lofty ideal of woman and of love
Men are weak, and there are things
which women must accomplish
Money is not a common thing between
gentlemen like you and me
Monsieur, I know that I have lived too
long
Neither idealist nor realist
Never interfered in what did not
concern him
No writer had more dislike of mere
pedantry
Offices will end by rendering great
names vile
Princes ought never to be struck,
except on the head
Princesses ceded like a town, and must
not even weep
Principle that art implied selection
Recommended a scrupulous observance of
nature
Remedy infallible against the plague
and against reserve
Reproaches are useless and cruel if the
evil is done
Should be punished for not having known
how to punish
So strongly does force impose upon men
Tears for the future
The great leveller has swung a long
scythe over France
The most in favor will be the soonest
abandoned by him
The usual remarks prompted by
imbecility on such occasions
These ideas may serve as opium to
produce a calm
They tremble while they threaten
They have believed me incapable because
I was kind
They loved not as you love, eh?
This popular favor is a cup one must
drink
This was the Dauphin, afterward Louis
XIV
True talent paints life rather than the
living
Truth, I here venture to distinguish
from that of the True
Urbain Grandier
What use is the memory of facts, if not
to serve as an example
Woman is more bitter than death, and
her arms are like chains
Yes, we are in the way here
|
M.M. AND BEBE, By Gustave Droz
|
A ripe husband, ready to fall from the
tree
Affection is catching
All babies are round, yielding, weak,
timid, and soft
And I shall say 'damn it,' for I shall
then be grown up
Answer "No," but with a little kiss
which means "Yes"
As regards love, intention and deed are
the same
But she thinks she is affording you
pleasure
Clumsily, blew his nose, to the great
relief of his two arms
Do not seek too much
Emotion when one does not share it
First impression is based upon a number
of trifles
He Would Have Been Forty Now
Hearty laughter which men affect to
assist digestion
How many things have not people been
proud of
How rich we find ourselves when we
rummage in old drawers
Husband who loves you and eats off the
same plate is better
I would give two summers for a single
autumn
I do not accept the hypothesis of a
world made for us
I came here for that express purpose
I am not wandering through life, I am
marching on
Ignorant of everything, undesirous of
learning anything
In his future arrange laurels for a
little crown for your own
It (science) dreams, too; it supposes
It is silly to blush under certain
circumstances
Learned to love others by embracing
their own children
Life is not so sweet for us to risk
ourselves in it singlehanded
Love in marriage is, as a rule, too
much at his ease
Man is but one of the links of an
immense chain
Rather do not give—make yourself
sought after
Reckon yourself happy if in your
husband you find a lover
Recollection of past dangers to
increase the present joy
Respect him so that he may respect you
Shelter himself in the arms of the weak
and recover courage
Sometimes like to deck the future in
the garments of the past
The heart requires gradual changes
The future that is rent away
The recollection of that moment lasts
for a lifetime
The future promises, it is the present
that pays
Their love requires a return
There are pious falsehoods which the
Church excuses
Ties that unite children to parents are
unloosed
Ties which unite parents to children
are broken
To be able to smoke a cigar without
being sick
To love is a great deal—To know how to
love is everything
We are simple to this degree, that we
do not think we are
When time has softened your grief
Why mankind has chosen to call marriage
a man-trap
|
MONSIEUR DE CAMORS, By Octave Feuillet
|
A man never should kneel unless sure of
rising a conqueror
A defensive attitude is never agreeable
to a man
Bad to fear the opinion of people one
despises
Believing that it is for virtue's sake
alone such men love them
Camors refused, hesitated, made
objections, and consented
Confounding progress with discord,
liberty with license
Contempt for men is the beginning of
wisdom
Cried out, with the blunt candor of his
age
Dangers of liberty outweighed its
benefits
Demanded of him imperatively—the time
of day
Determined to cultivate ability rather
than scrupulousness
Disenchantment which follows possession
Do not get angry. Rarely laugh, and
never weep
Every one is the best judge of his own
affairs
Every road leads to Rome—and one as
surely as another
Every cause that is in antagonism with
its age commits suicide
God—or no principles!
Have not that pleasure, it is useless
to incur the penalties
He is charming, for one always feels in
danger near him
Inconstancy of heart is the special
attribute of man
Intemperance of her zeal and the
acrimony of her bigotry
Knew her danger, and, unlike most of
them, she did not love it
Man, if he will it, need not grow old:
the lion must
Never can make revolutions with gloves
on
Once an excellent remedy, is a
detestable regimen
One of those pious persons who always
think evil
Pleasures of an independent code of
morals
Police regulations known as religion
Principles alone, without faith in some
higher sanction
Property of all who are strong enough
to stand it
Put herself on good terms with God, in
case He should exist
'Semel insanivimus omnes.' (every one
has his madness)
Slip forth from the common herd, my
son, think for yourself
Suspicion that he is a feeble human
creature after all!
There will be no more belief in Christ
than in Jupiter
Ties that become duties where we only
sought pleasures
Truth is easily found. I shall read
all the newspapers
Two persons who desired neither to
remember nor to forget
Whether in this world one must be a
fanatic or nothing
Whole world of politics and religion
rushed to extremes
With the habit of thinking, had not
lost the habit of laughing
You can not make an omelette without
first breaking the eggs
|
THE RED LILY, By Anatole France
|
A woman is frank when she does not lie
uselessly
A hero must be human. Napoleon was
human
Anti-Semitism is making fearful
progress everywhere
Brilliancy of a fortune too new
Curious to know her face of that day
Disappointed her to escape the danger
she had feared
Do you think that people have not
talked about us?
Does not wish one to treat it with
either timidity or brutality
Does one ever possess what one loves?
Each had regained freedom, but he did
not like to be alone
Each was moved with self-pity
Everybody knows about that
Fringe which makes an unlovely border
to the city
Gave value to her affability by not
squandering it
He could not imagine that often words
are the same as actions
He studied until the last moment
He is not intelligent enough to doubt
He does not bear ill-will to those whom
he persecutes
He knew now the divine malady of love
Her husband had become quite bearable
His habit of pleasing had prolonged his
youth
(Housemaid) is trained to respect my
disorder
I love myself because you love me
I can forget you only when I am with
you
I wished to spoil our past
I feel in them (churches) the grandeur
of nothingness
I have to pay for the happiness you
give me
I gave myself to him because he loved
me
I haven't a taste, I have tastes
I have known things which I know no
more
I do not desire your friendship
Ideas they think superior to love—
faith, habits, interests
Immobility of time
Impatient at praise which was not
destined for himself
Incapable of conceiving that one might
talk without an object
It was torture for her not to be able
to rejoin him
It is an error to be in the right too
soon
It was too late: she did not wish to
win
Jealous without having the right to be
jealous
Kisses and caresses are the effort of
a delightful despair
Knew that life is not worth so much
anxiety nor so much hope
Laughing in every wrinkle of his face
Learn to live without desire
Let us give to men irony and pity as
witnesses and judges
Life as a whole is too vast and too
remote
Life is made up of just such trifles
Life is not a great thing
Little that we can do when we are
powerful
Love is a soft and terrible force, more
powerful than beauty
Love was only a brief intoxication
Lovers never separate kindly
Made life give all it could yield
Magnificent air of those beggars of
whom small towns are proud
Miserable beings who contribute to the
grandeur of the past
Nobody troubled himself about that
originality
None but fools resisted the current
Not everything is known, but everything
is said
Nothing is so legitimate, so human, as
to deceive pain
One would think that the wind would put
them out: the stars
One who first thought of pasting a
canvas on a panel
One is never kind when one is in love
One should never leave the one whom one
loves
Picturesquely ugly
Recesses of her mind which she
preferred not to open
Relatives whom she did not know and who
irritated her
Seemed to him that men were grains in a
coffee-mill
She pleased society by appearing to
find pleasure in it
She is happy, since she likes to
remember
Should like better to do an immoral
thing than a cruel one
Simple people who doubt neither
themselves nor others
Since she was in love, she had lost
prudence
So well satisfied with his reply that
he repeated it twice
Superior men sometimes lack cleverness
That sort of cold charity which is
called altruism
That if we live the reason is that we
hope
That absurd and generous fury for
ownership
The most radical breviary of scepticism
since Montaigne
The door of one's room opens on the
infinite
The past is the only human reality—
Everything that is, is past
The one whom you will love and who will
love you will harm you
The violent pleasure of losing
The discouragement which the
irreparable gives
The real support of a government is the
Opposition
The politician never should be in
advance of circumstances
There is nothing good except to ignore
and to forget
There are many grand and strong things
which you do not feel
They are the coffin saying: 'I am the
cradle'
To be beautiful, must a woman have that
thin form
Trying to make Therese admire what she
did not know
Umbrellas, like black turtles under the
watery skies
Unfortunate creature who is the
plaything of life
Was I not warned enough of the sadness
of everything?
We are too happy; we are robbing life
What will be the use of having
tormented ourselves in this world
Whether they know or do not know, they
talk
Women do not always confess it, but it
is always their fault
You must take me with my own soul!
|
ABBE CONSTANTIN, By Ludovic Halevey
|
Ancient pillars of stone, embrowned and
gnawed by time
And they are shoulders which ought to
be seen
Believing themselves irresistible
But she will give me nothing but money
Duty, simply accepted and simply
discharged
Frenchman has only one real luxury—his
revolutions
God may have sent him to purgatory just
for form's sake
Great difference between dearly and
very much
Had not told all—one never does tell
all
He led the brilliant and miserable
existence of the unoccupied
If there is one! (a paradise)
In order to make money, the first thing
is to have no need of it
Love and tranquillity seldom dwell at
peace in the same heart
Never foolish to spend money. The
folly lies in keeping it
Often been compared to Eugene Sue, but
his touch is lighter
One half of his life belonged to the
poor
One may think of marrying, but one
ought not to try to marry
Succeeded in wearying him by her
importunities and tenderness
The women have enough religion for the
men
The history of good people is often
monotonous or painful
To learn to obey is the only way of
learning to command
|
CHRYSANTHEME, By Pierre Loti
|
Ah! the natural perversity of inanimate
things
Contemptuous pity, both for my
suspicions and the cause of them
Dull hours spent in idle and diffuse
conversation
Efforts to arrange matters we succeed
often only in disarranging
Found nothing that answered to my
indefinable expectations
Habit turns into a makeshift of
attachment
I know not what lost home that I have
failed to find
Irritating laugh which is peculiar to
Japan
Japanese habit of expressing myself
with excessive politeness
Ordinary, trivial, every-day objects
Prayers swallowed like pills by
invalids at a distance
Seeking for a change which can no
longer be found
Trees, dwarfed by a Japanese process
When the inattentive spirits are not
listening
Which I should find amusing in any one
else,—any one I loved
|
CONSCIENCE, By Hector Malot
|
As ignorant as a schoolmaster
As free from prejudices as one may be,
one always retains a few
Confidence in one's self is strength,
but it is also weakness
Conscience is a bad weighing-machine
Conscience is only an affair of
environment and of education
Find it more easy to make myself feared
than loved
For the rest of his life he would be
the prisoner of his crime
Force, which is the last word of the
philosophy of life
He did not sleep, so much the better!
He would work more
I believed in the virtue of work, and
look at me!
In his eyes everything was decided by
luck
Intelligent persons have no remorse
It is the first crime that costs
It is only those who own something who
worry about the price
Leant—and when I did not lose my
friends I lost my money
Leisure must be had for light reading,
and even more for love
Looking for a needle in a bundle of hay
Neither so simple nor so easy as they
at first appeared
One does not judge those whom one loves
People whose principle was never to pay
a doctor
Power to work, that was never disturbed
or weakened by anything
Reason before the deed, and not after
Repeated and explained what he had
already said and explained
She could not bear contempt
The strong walk alone because they need
no one
We are so unhappy that our souls are
weak against joy
We weep, we do not complain
Will not admit that conscience is the
proper guide of our action
You love me, therefore you do not know
me
|
ZIBELINE, By Phillipe de Massa
|
All that was illogical in our social
code
Ambiguity has no place, nor has
compromise
But if this is our supreme farewell,
do not tell me so!
Chain so light yesterday, so heavy
to-day
Every man is his own master in his
choice of liaisons
If I do not give all I give nothing
Indulgence of which they stand in need
themselves
Life goes on, and that is less gay than
the stories
Men admired her; the women sought some
point to criticise
Only a man, wavering and changeable
Ostensibly you sit at the feast without
paying the cost
Paris has become like a little country
town in its gossip
The night brings counsel
Their Christian charity did not extend
so far as that
There are mountains that we never climb
but once
You are in a conquered country, which
is still more dangerous
|
THE CHILD OF A CENTURY, By Alfred de Musset
|
A terrible danger lurks in the
knowledge of what is possible
Accustomed to call its disguise virtue
Adieu, my son, I love you and I die
All philosophy is akin to atheism
All that is not life, it is the noise
of life
And when love is sure of itself and
knows response
Because you weep, you fondly imagine
yourself innocent
Become corrupt, and you will cease to
suffer
Began to forget my own sorrow in my
sympathy for her
Beware of disgust, it is an incurable
evil
Can any one prevent a gossip
Cold silence, that negative force
Contrive to use proud disdain as a
shield
Death is more to be desired than a
living distaste for life
Despair of a man sick of life, or the
whim of a spoiled child
Do they think they have invented what
they see
Each one knows what the other is about
to say
Fool who destroys his own happiness
Force itself, that mistress of the
world
Funeral processions are no longer
permitted
Galileo struck the earth, crying:
"Nevertheless it moves!"
Good and bad days succeeded each other
almost regularly
Great sorrows neither accuse nor
blaspheme—they listen
Grief itself was for her but a means of
seducing
Happiness of being pursued
He who is loved by a beautiful woman is
sheltered from every blow
He lives only in the body
How much they desire to be loved who
say they love no more
Human weakness seeks association
I can not be near you and separated
from you at the same moment
I can not love her, I can not love
another
I boasted of being worse than I really
was
I neither love nor esteem sadness
I do not intend either to boast or
abase myself
Ignorance into which the Greek clergy
plunged the laity
In what do you believe?
Indignation can solace grief and
restore happiness
Is he a dwarf or a giant
Is it not enough to have lived?
It is a pity that you must seek
pastimes
Make a shroud of your virtue in which
to bury your crimes
Man who suffers wishes to make her whom
he loves suffer
Men doubted everything: the young men
denied everything
No longer esteemed her highly enough to
be jealous of her
Of all the sisters of love, the most
beautiful is pity
Perfection does not exist
Pure caprice that I myself mistook for
a flash of reason
Quarrel had been, so to speak, less sad
than our reconciliation
Reading the Memoirs of Constant
Resorted to exaggeration in order to
appear original
Sceptic regrets the faith he has lost
the power to regain
Seven who are always the same: the
first is called hope
She pretended to hope for the best
Sometimes we seem to enjoy unhappiness
"Speak to me of your love," she said,
"not of your grief"
St. Augustine
Suffered, and yet took pleasure in it
Suspicions that are ever born anew
Terrible words; I deserve them, but
they will kill me
There are two different men in you
Ticking of which (our arteries) can be
heard only at night
"Unhappy man!" she cried, "you will
never know how to love"
We have had a mass celebrated, and it
cost us a large sum
What you take for love is nothing more
than desire
What human word will ever express thy
slightest caress
When passion sways man, reason follows
him weeping and warning
Who has told you that tears can wash
away the stains of guilt
Wine suffuses the face as if to prevent
shame appearing there
You believe in what is said here below
and not in what is done
You play with happiness as a child
plays with a rattle
You turn the leaves of dead books
Your great weapon is silence
Youth is to judge of the world from
first impressions
|
SERGE PANINE, By George Ohnet
|
A man weeps with difficulty before a woman
A uniform is the only garb which can hide
poverty honorably
Antagonism to plutocracy and hatred of
aristocrats
Because they moved, they thought they were
progressing
Cowardly in trouble as he had been insolent
in prosperity
Enough to be nobody's unless I belong to him
Even those who do not love her desire to
know her
Everywhere was feverish excitement, dissipation,
and nullity
Flayed and roasted alive by the critics
Forget a dream and accept a reality
Hard workers are pitiful lovers
He lost his time, his money, his hair, his
illusions
He was very unhappy at being misunderstood
Heed that you lose not in dignity what you gain
in revenge
I thought the best means of being loved were
to deserve it
I don't pay myself with words
Implacable self-interest which is the law of
the world
In life it is only nonsense that is
common-sense
Is a man ever poor when he has two arms?
Is it by law only that you wish to keep me?
It was a relief when they rose from the table
Men of pleasure remain all their lives
mediocre workers
Money troubles are not mortal
My aunt is jealous of me because I am a
man of ideas
Negroes, all but monkeys!
Nothing that provokes laughter more than a
disappointed lover
One amuses one's self at the risk of dying
Patience, should he encounter a dull page
here or there
Romanticism still ferments beneath the
varnish of Naturalism
Sacrifice his artistic leanings to popular
caprice
Scarcely was one scheme launched when another
idea occurred
She would have liked the world to be in mourning
Suffering is a human law; the world is an arena
Talk with me sometimes. You will not chatter
trivialities
The guilty will not feel your blows, but the
innocent
The uncontested power which money brings
They had only one aim, one passion—to enjoy
themselves
Unqualified for happiness
We had taken the dream of a day for eternal
happiness
What is a man who remains useless
Without a care or a cross, he grew weary
like a prisoner
You are talking too much about it to be
sincere
|
AN "ATTIC" PHILOSOPHER, By Emile Souvestre
|
Always to mistake feeling for evidence
Ambroise Pare: 'I tend him, God cures
him!'
Are we then bound to others only by the
enforcement of laws
Attach a sense of remorse to each of my
pleasures
Brought them up to poverty
But above these ruins rises a calm and
happy face
Carn-ival means, literally, "farewell
to flesh!"
Coffee is the grand work of a
bachelor's housekeeping
Contemptuous pride of knowledge
Death, that faithful friend of the
wretched
Defeat and victory only displace each
other by turns
Did not think the world was so great
Do they understand what makes them so
gay?
Each of us regards himself as the
mirror of the community
Ease with which the poor forget their
wretchedness
Every one keeps his holidays in his own
way
Fame and power are gifts that are
dearly bought
Favorite and conclusive answer of his
class—"I know"
Fear of losing a moment from business
Finishes his sin thoroughly before he
begins to repent
Fortune sells what we believe she gives
Her kindness, which never sleeps
Houses are vessels which take mere
passengers
Hubbub of questions which waited for no
reply
I make it a rule never to have any hope
Ignorant of what there is to wish for
Looks on an accomplished duty neither
as a merit nor a grievance
Make himself a name: he becomes public
property
Moderation is the great social virtue
More stir than work
My patronage has become her property
No one is so unhappy as to have nothing
to give
Not desirous to teach goodness
Nothing is dishonorable which is useful
Our tempers are like an opera-glass
Poverty, you see, is a famous
schoolmistress
Power of necessity
Prisoners of work
Progress can never be forced on without
danger
Question is not to discover what will
suit us
Richer than France herself, for I have
no deficit in my budget
Ruining myself, but we must all have
our Carnival
Satisfy our wants, if we know how to
set bounds to them
Sensible man, who has observed much and
speaks little
So much confidence at first, so much
doubt at las
Sullen tempers are excited by the
patience of their victims
The happiness of the wise man costs but
little
The man in power gives up his peace
Two thirds of human existence are
wasted in hesitation
Virtue made friends, but she did not
take pupils
We do not understand that others may
live on their own account
We are not bound to live, while we are
bound to do our duty
What have you done with the days God
granted you
What a small dwelling joy can live
You may know the game by the lair
|
A WOODLAND QUEEN, By Andre Theuriet
|
Accustomed to hide what I think
Amusements they offered were either
wearisome or repugnant
Consoled himself with one of the pious
commonplaces
Dreaded the monotonous regularity of
conjugal life
Fawning duplicity
Had not been spoiled by Fortune's gifts
How small a space man occupies on the
earth
Hypocritical grievances
I am not in the habit of consulting the
law
I measure others by myself
It does not mend matters to give way
like that
Like all timid persons, he took refuge
in a moody silence
More disposed to discover evil than
good
Nature's cold indifference to our
sufferings
Never is perfect happiness our lot
Opposing his orders with steady,
irritating inertia
Others found delight in the most
ordinary amusements
Plead the lie to get at the truth
Sensitiveness and disposition to
self-blame
The ease with which he is forgotten
There are some men who never have had
any childhood
Those who have outlived their illusions
Timidity of a night-bird that is made
to fly in the day
To make a will is to put one foot into
the grave
Toast and white wine (for breakfast)
Vague hope came over him that all would
come right
Vexed, act in direct contradiction to
their own wishes
Women: they are more bitter than death
Yield to their customs, and not
pooh-pooh their amusements
You have considerable patience for a
lover
You must be pleased with yourself—that
is more essential
|
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