On fine summer evenings, at the hour when the warm streets are empty and the maids play shuttlecock in doorways, he would open his window and lean out on the sill. The river, which turns this part of...
Pero cuanto más conciencia tomaba Emma de su amor, más lo reprimía para que no se notara y para que disminuyese. Le hubiera gustado que Léon lo adivinara; e imaginaba casualidades, catástrofes que hub...
Posseïa aquella bellesa indefinible que resulta de la joia, de l'entusiasme, de l'èxit, i que no és sinó una conjunció harmoniosa de les circumstàncies i del temperament.
Prima di sposarsi, Emma aveva creduto d'amare; ma la felicità che avrebbe dovuto nascere dal quell'amore non era venuta, e pensava che doveva essersi sbagliata. Ella cercava ora, di sapere che cosa vo...
Prima di sposarsi, Emma aveva creduto di essere innamorata, ma la felicità che avrebbe dovuto nascere da questo amore non esisteva, ed ella pensava ormai di essersi sbagliata. Cercava ora di capire co...
Se lăuda că își cunoaște limba și purica cele mai frumoase fraze cu acea severitate haină, acel gust academic care caracterizează persoanele zvăpăiate cînd se ocupă de arta serioasă./ Il se vantait de...
Self-confidence depends on environment: one does not speak in the same tone in the drawing room than in the kitchen.
Sentences must stir in a book like leaves in a forest, each distinct from each despite their resemblance.
She put him near the front door and a number of visitors were surprised that he would not answer to the name 'Polly', which is what all parrots were supposed to be called.
She was the amoureuse of all the novels, the heroine of all the plays, the vague she of all the poetry books.
Sometimes, in a daze, they completely dismantled the cadaver, then found themselves hard put to it to fit the pieces together again.
Szeretett volna nem élni vagy mindig aludni.
The more flowery a person’s speech … the more suspect the feelings, or lack of feelings, it concealed.
The more ideas they had the more they suffered.
The world is going to become bloody stupid and from now on will be a very boring place. We’re lucky to be living now.
Then she asked herself, Isn’t he in love with someone? Who could it be? …Why, it’s me! All the evidence immediately became clear to her, and her heart leapt.
Then she fell back exhausted, for these transports of vague love wearied her more than great debauchery.
Those who were beginning to grow old had an air of youth, while there was something mature in the faces of the young.
What exasperated her was that Charles seemed to have no notion of her torment. His conviction that he was making her happy struck her as impudent imbecility, his uxorious complacency as ingratitude.
What’s improper about it? retorted the clerk. Everybody does it in Paris! It was an irresistible and conclusive argument.
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