The true poet for me is a priest. As soon as he dons the cassock, he must leave his family.
Triste comme une maison démeublée ;
Znaš li da je mladi školski naraštaj silno glup ? Nekada je imao više pameti; zabavljao se ženama, mačevanjem, orgijama; sad se doteruje po Bajronu, sanja o očaju i do mile volje okiva sebi srce ... U...
Van zee hield zij alleen vanwege de stormen, en van gras uitsluitend als het schaars opschoot tussen de ruïnes.
Szeretett volna nem élni vagy mindig aludni.
Sometimes they opened a book and closed it again; what was the point? On other days they had the idea of tidying up the garden, but after a quarter of an hour they felt tired; or of looking at their f...
Poiché la parte vissuta della sua esistenza non era stata nulla di buono, la parte restante sarebbe stata certamente migliore.
L’amour est comme l’opéra. On s’y ennuie mais on y retourne.
Isn’t ‘not to be bored’ one of the principal goals of life?
Het woord is trouwens net een mangel die gevoelens gladstrijkt.
Emma was just like any other mistress; and the charm of novelty, falling down slowly like a dress, exposed only the eternal monotony of passion, always the same forms and the same language.
And indeed, what is better than to sit by one's fireside in the evening with a book, while the wind beats against the window and the lamp is burning?
An overwhelming curiosity makes me ask myself what their lives might be like. I want to know what they do, where they're from, their names, what they're thinking about at that moment, what they regret...
Emma still had a joyless look, and, habitually, at the corners of her mouth, she had that tightness that crumples the faces of old maids and bankrupts.
The artist, to my way of thinking, is a monstrosity, something outside nature.
The writer must wade into life as into the sea, but only up to the navel.
The most glorious moments in your life are not the so-called days of success, but rather those days when out of dejection and despair you feel rise in you a challenge to life, and the promise of futur...
What happiness there had been in those days! What freedom! What hope! What an abundance of illusions! She had none left now. Each new venture had cost her some of them, each of her successive conditio...
Then they wondered if there were men in the stars. Why not? And as creation is harmonious, the inhabitants of Sirius ought to be huge, those of Mars middle-sized, those of Venus very small. Unless it...
Speech is a rolling-mill that always thins out the sentiment.