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Date created: April 2010
Birthdate December 12, 1821
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Job others,
Everything one invents is true, you may be perfectly sure of that. Poetry is as precise as geometry.
Talent is a long patience, and originality an effort of will and intense observation.
Everyone, either from modesty or egotism, hides away the best and most delicate of his soul
He had the vanity to believe men did not like him
Stupidity lies in wanting to draw conclusions.
You need a high degree of corruption or a very big heart to love absolutely everything
Are the days of winter sunshine just as sad for you, too? When it is misty, in the evenings, and I am out walking by myself, it seems to me that the rain is falling through my heart and causing it to crumble into ruins
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 is the same everywhere. There are businessmen, police up there; people trade, fight, dethrone their kings. Some shooting stars suddenly slid past, describing a course in the sky like the parabola of a monstrous rocket.
At other times, at the edge of a wood, especially at dusk, the trees themselves would assume strange shapes: sometimes they were arms rising heavenwards, , or else the trunk would twist and turn like a body being bent by the wind. At night, when I woke up and the moon and the stars were out, I would see in the sky things that filled me simultaneously with dread and longing. I remember that once, one Christmas Eve, I saw a great naked women, standing erect, with rolling eyes; she must have been a hundred feet high, but along she drifted, growing ever longer and ever thinner, and finally fell apart, each limb remaining separate, with the head floating away first as the rest of her body continued to waver
When one does something, one must do it wholly and well. Those bastard existences where you sell suet all day and write poetry at night are made for mediocre minds
Every notary carries about inside him the debris of a poet.
With a little more time, patience, and hard work, and above all with a more sensitive taste for the formal aspects of arts, he would have managed to write mediocre poetry, good enough for a lady
As humanity perfects itself, man becomes degraded. When everything is reduced to the mere counter-balancing of economic interests, what room will there be for virtue? When Nature has been so subjugated that she has lost all her original forms, where will that leave the plastic arts? And so on. In the mean time, things are going to get very murky.
There are two infinities that confuse me: the one in my soul devours me; the one around me will crush me
He seriously thought that there is less harm in killing a man than producing a child: in the first case you are relieving someone of life, not his whole life but a half or a quarter or a hundredth part of that existence that is going to finish, that would finish without you; but as for the second, he would say, are you not responsible to him for all the tears he will shed, from the cradle to the grave? Without you he would never have been born, and why is he born? For your amusement, not for his, that
From time to time, I open a newspaper. Things seem to be proceeding at a dizzying rate. We are dancing not on the edge of a volcano, but on the wooden seat of a latrine, and it seems to me more than a touch rotten. Soon society will go plummeting down and drown in nineteen centuries of shit. There
Never have things of the spirit counted for so little. Never has hatred for everything great been so manifest
Everyone rushes wherever his instincts impel him, the populace swarms like insects over a corpse, poets pass by without having the time to sculpt their thoughts, hardly have they scribbled their ideas down on sheets of paper than the sheets are blown away; everything glitters and everything resounds in this masquerade, beneath its ephemeral royalties and its cardboard scepters, gold flows, wine cascades, cold debauchery lifts her skirts and jigs around
How wonderful to find in living creatures the same substance as those which make up minerals. Nevertheless they felt a sort of humiliation at the idea that their persons contained phosphorous like matches, albumen like white of egg, hydrogen gas like street lamps.
I have patience in all things
What wretched poverty of language! To compare stars to diamonds!
I go dreaming into the future, where I see nothing, nothing. I have no plans, no idea, no project, and, what is worse, no ambition. Something
But, in her life, nothing was going to happen. Such was the will of God! The future was a dark corridor, and at the far end the door was bolted.
And she felt as though she had been there, on that bench, for an eternity. For an infinity of passion can be contained in one minute, like a crowd in a small space.
The public wants work which flatters its illusions.
If you participate in life, you don
On certain occasions art can shake very ordinary spirits, and whole worlds can be revealed by its clumsiest interpreters.
The artist must manage to make posterity believe that he never existed.
The sight of so many ruins destroys any desire to build shanties; all this ancient dust makes one indifferent to fame.
He was bored now when Emma suddenly began to sob on his breast; and his heart, like the people who can only stand a certain amount of music, became drowsy through indifference to the vibrations of a love whose subtleties he could no longer distinguish.
He loved the extensive vaults where you could hear the night birds and the sea breeze; he loved the craggy ruins bound together by ivy, those dark halls, and any appearance of death and destruction. Having fallen so far from so high a position, he loved anything that had also fallen from a great height
Be orderly and disciplined in daily life, like a good bourgeois, so that I might be wild and violent in my art.
Of all the icy blasts that blow on love, a request for money is the most chilling.
He had carefully avoided her out of the natural cowardice that characterizes the stronger sex.
This haze of blood must subside, the palace must collapse under the weight of the riches it conceals, the orgy must finish and the time come to awaken.
The more you approach infinity, the deeper you penetrate terror
My foregrounds are imaginary, my backgrounds real.
By trying to understand everything, everything makes me dream
There is not a particle of life which does not bear poetry within it
Do not read, as children do, to amuse yourself, or like the ambitious, for the purpose of instruction. No, read in order to live.
Be steady and well-ordered in your life so that you can be fierce and original in your work.
Sadness is a vice.
Better to work for yourself alone. You do as you like and follow your own ideas, you admire yourself and please yourself: isn
What baffled him was that there should be all this fuss about something so simple as love.
Indeed, for the last three years, he had carefully avoided her, as a result of the natural cowardice so characteristic of the stronger sex...
I tried to discover, in the rumor of forests and waves, words that other men could not hear, and I pricked up my ears to listen to the revelation of their harmony
In the end idealism annoyed Bouvard.
An infinity of passion can be contained in one minute, like a crowd in a small space.
As for the piano, the faster her fingers flew over it, the more he marveled. She struck the keys with aplomb and ran from one end of the keyboard to the other without a stop.
(Egypt) is a great place for contrasts: splendid things gleam in the dust.
It is always sad to leave a place to which one knows one will never return. Such are the melancolies du voyage: perhaps they are one of the most rewarding things about traveling.
Ah! Traveling makes one modest
Never touch your idols: the gilding will stick to your fingers.
I am irritated by my own writing. I am like a violinist whose ear is true, but whose fingers refuse to reproduce precisely the sound he hears within.
The art of writing is the art of discovering what you believe.
I grew up in a hospital and as a child I played in the dissecting room
Human speech is like a cracked kettle on which we tap crude rhythms for bears to dance to, while we long to make music that will melt the stars.
It is an excellent habit to look at things as so many symbols.
Abstraction can provide stumbling blocks for people of strange intelligence.
But the denigration of those we love always detaches us from them in some degree. Never touch your idols: the gilding will stick to your fingers.
There was an air of indifference about them, a calm produced by the gratification of every passion; and through their manners were suave, one could sense beneath them that special brutality which comes from the habit of breaking down half-hearted resistances that keep one fit and tickle one
The one way of tolerating existence is to lose oneself in literature as in a perpetual orgy.
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