Financial demands, of all the rough winds that blow upon our love, (are) quite the coldest and the most biting.
Emma se sentí satisfeta interiorment creient que havia assolit d'un sol cop aquell rar ideal propi de les existències pàl·lides al qual els cors mediocres no podran arribar mai.
Charles’ conversation was as flat as a street pavement, on which everybody’s ideas trudged past, in their workaday dress, provoking no emotion, no laughter, no dreams.
Charles's conversation was commonplace as a street pavement, and everyone's ideas trooped through it in their everyday garb, without exciting emotion, laughter, or thought. He had never had the curios...
I believe in Supreme Being, a Creator, whoever he may be, it's of no importance to me, who put us here on earth to do our duty as citizens and fathers; but I don't need to go to church and kiss silver...
What a man Balzac would have been if he had known how to write.
Leon was weary of loving without any result; moreover he was beginning to feel that depression caused by the repetition of the same kind of life, when no interest inspires and no hope sustains it. He...
One mustn't ask apple trees for oranges, France for sun, women for love, life for happiness.
There are neither good nor bad subjects. From the point of view of pure Art, you could almost establish it as an axiom that the subject is irrelevant, style itself being an absolute manner of seeing t...
We think of women at every age: while still children, we fondle with a naïve sensuality the breasts of those grown-up girls kissing us and cuddling us in their arms; at the age of ten, we dream of lov...
This is indeed a funny country. Yesterday, for example, we were in a cafe which is one of the best in Cairo, and there were, at the same time as ourselves, inside, a donkey shitting, and a gentleman w...
Some details escaped her, but the regret remained with her.
She would have liked not to be alive, or to be always asleep.
She loved the sea only for the sake of its storms, and the green fields only when broken up by ruins.
Oh, to blijedo zimsko sunce! Ono je žalosno kao uspomena na sreću.
He leaned against the writing desk and stayed there till nightfall, lost in sorrowful thoughts. After all, she had loved him.
Era el desvarieig produït per l'absència d'una il·lusió sense retorn, la lassitud que deixen els fets acomplerts, el dolor, en fi, que promou la interrupció de tot moviment acostumat, la sobtada cessa...
Cosa c’è di meglio, in realtà, che starsene la sera accanto al fuoco con un bel libro in mano, mentre il vento sbatte contro le persiane e arde il lume della lampada?
Because wanton or venal lips had murmured the same words to him, he only half believed in the sincerity of those he was hearing now; to a large extent they should be disregarded, he believed, because...
Avec la jalousie d'un artiste et l'égoïsme d'un bourgeois