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Title: Widger's Quotations from Project Gutenberg Edition of French Immortals Series

Editor: David Widger

Release date: May 1, 2003 [eBook #4001]

Most recently updated: December 27, 2020

Language: English

Credits: This etext was produced by David Widger

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WIDGER'S QUOTATIONS FROM PROJECT GUTENBERG EDITION OF FRENCH IMMORTALS SERIES ***

This etext was produced by David Widger <widger@cecomet.net.

WIDGER'S QUOTATIONS

FROM THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EDITION OF THE IMMORTALS OF THE FRENCH ACADEMY

EDITOR'S NOTE

Readers acquainted with the Immortals series of the French Academy may wish to see if their favorite passages are listed in this selection. The etext editor will be glad to add your suggestions. One of the advantages of internet over paper publication is the ease of quick revision.

All the titles may be found using the Project Gutenberg search engine at: http://promo.net/pg/

After downloading a specific file, the location and complete context of the quotations may be found by inserting a small part of the quotation into the 'Find' or 'Search' functions of the user's word processing program.

The quotations are in two formats: 1. Small passages from the text. 2. Lists of alphabetized one-liners.

The editor may be contacted at <widger@cecomet.net> for comments, questions or suggested additions to these extracts.

D.W.

THE ENTIRE PROJECT GUTENBERG EDITION OF THE FRENCH IMMORTALS

CROWNED BY THE FRENCH ACADEMY

CONTENTS: (listed in reversed order)

Apr 2003 Entire PG Edition of The French Immortals [IM#87][imewk10.txt]4000

Apr 2003 Entire An "Attic" Philosopher by Souvestre [IM#86][im86b10.txt]3999

Apr 2003 An "Attic" Philosopher by E. Souvestre, v3 [IM#85][im85b10.txt]3998

Apr 2003 An "Attic" Philosopher by E. Souvestre, v2 [IM#84][im84b10.txt]3997

Apr 2003 An "Attic" Philosopher by E. Souvestre, v1 [IM#83][im83b10.txt]3996

Apr 2003 The Entire Madame Chrysantheme by Loti [IM#82][im82b10.txt]3995

Apr 2003 Madame Chrysantheme by Pierre Loti, v4 [IM#81][im81b10.txt]3994

Apr 2003 Madame Chrysantheme by Pierre Loti, v3 [IM#80][im80b10.txt]3993

Apr 2003 Madame Chrysantheme by Pierre Loti, v2 [IM#79][im79b10.txt]3992

Apr 2003 Madame Chrysantheme by Pierre Loti, v1 [IM#78][im78b10.txt]3991

Apr 2003 The Entire Conscience by Hector Malot [IM#77][im77b10.txt]3990

Apr 2003 Conscience by Hector Malot, v4 [IM#76][im76b10.txt]3989

Apr 2003 Conscience by Hector Malot, v3 [IM#75][im75b10.txt]3988

Apr 2003 Conscience by Hector Malot, v2 [IM#74][im74b10.txt]3987

Apr 2003 Conscience by Hector Malot, v1 [IM#73][im73b10.txt]3986

Apr 2003 The Entire Gerfaut by Charles de Bernard [IM#72][im72b10.txt]3885

Apr 2003 Gerfaut by Charles de Bernard, v4 [IM#71][im71b10.txt]3984

Apr 2003 Gerfaut by Charles de Bernard, v3 [IM#70][im70b10.txt]3983

Apr 2003 Gerfaut by Charles de Bernard, v2 [IM#69][im69b10.txt]3982

Apr 2003 Gerfaut by Charles de Bernard, v1 [IM#68][im68b10.txt]3981

Apr 2003 The Entire Fromont and Risler, by Daudet [IM#67][im67b10.txt]3980

Apr 2003 Fromont and Risler by Alphonse Daudet, v4 [IM#66][im66b10.txt]3979

Apr 2003 Fromont and Risler by Alphonse Daudet, v3 [IM#65][im65b10.txt]3978

Apr 2003 Fromont and Risler by Alphonse Daudet, v2 [IM#64][im64b10.txt]3977

Apr 2003 Fromont and Risler by Alphonse Daudet, v1 [IM#63][im63b10.txt]3976

Apr 2003 Entire The Ink-Stain by Rene Bazin [IM#62][im62b10.txt]3975

Apr 2003 The Ink-Stain by Rene Bazin, v3 [IM#61][im61b10.txt]3974

Apr 2003 The Ink-Stain by Rene Bazin, v2 [IM#60][im60b10.txt]3973

Apr 2003 The Ink-Stain by Rene Bazin, v1 [IM#59][im59b10.txt]3972

Apr 2003 Entire Jacqueline by Bentzon (Mme. Blanc) [IM#58][im58b10.txt]3971

Apr 2003 Jacqueline by Th. Bentzon (Mme. Blanc), v3 [IM#57][im57b10.txt]3970

Apr 2003 Jacqueline by Th. Bentzon (Mme. Blanc), v2 [IM#56][im56b10.txt]3969

Apr 2003 Jacqueline by Th. Bentzon (Mme. Blanc), v1 [IM#55][im55b10.txt]3968

Apr 2003 Entire Cosmopolis by Paul Bourget [IM#54][im54b10.txt]3967

Apr 2003 Cosmopolis by Paul Bourget, v4 [IM#53][im53b10.txt]3966

Apr 2003 Cosmopolis by Paul Bourget, v3 [IM#52][im52b10.txt]3965

Apr 2003 Cosmopolis by Paul Bourget, v2 [IM#51][im51b10.txt]3964

Apr 2003 Cosmopolis by Paul Bourget, v1 [IM#50][im50b10.txt]3963

Apr 2003 Entire Romance of Youth by Francois Coppee [IM#49][im49b10.txt]3962

Apr 2003 A Romance of Youth by Francois Coppee, v4 [IM#48][im48b10.txt]3961

Apr 2003 A Romance of Youth by Francois Coppee, v3 [IM#47][im47b10.txt]3960

Apr 2003 A Romance of Youth by Francois Coppee, v2 [IM#46][im46b10.txt]3959

Apr 2003 A Romance of Youth by Francois Coppee, v1 [IM#45][im45b10.txt]3958

Apr 2003 Entire L'Abbe Constantin by Ludovic Halevy [IM#44][im44b10.txt]3957

Apr 2003 L'Abbe Constantin by Ludovic Halevy, v3 [IM#43][im43b10.txt]3956

Apr 2003 L'Abbe Constantin by Ludovic Halevy, v2 [IM#42][im42b10.txt]3955

Apr 2003 L'Abbe Constantin by Ludovic Halevy, v1 [IM#41][im41b10.txt]3954

Apr 2003 The Entire Cinq Mars, by Alfred de Vigny [IM#40][im40b10.txt]3953

Apr 2003 Cinq Mars, by Alfred de Vigny, v6 [IM#39][im39b10.txt]3952

Apr 2003 Cinq Mars, by Alfred de Vigny, v5 [IM#38][im38b10.txt]3951

Apr 2003 Cinq Mars, by Alfred de Vigny, v4 [IM#37][im37b10.txt]3950

Apr 2003 Cinq Mars, by Alfred de Vigny, v3 [IM#36][im36b10.txt]3949

Apr 2003 Cinq Mars, by Alfred de Vigny, v2 [IM#35][im35b10.txt]3948

Apr 2003 Cinq Mars, by Alfred de Vigny, v1 [IM#34][im34b10.txt]3947

Apr 2003 Entire Monsieur de Camors by Oct. Feuillet [IM#33][im33b10.txt]3946

Apr 2003 Monsieur de Camors by Octave Feuillet, v3 [IM#32][im32b10.txt]3945

Apr 2003 Monsieur de Camors by Octave Feuillet, v2 [IM#31][im31b10.txt]3944

Apr 2003 Monsieur de Camors by Octave Feuillet, v1 [IM#30][im30b10.txt]3943

Apr 2003 Entire Child of a Century, Alfred de Musset[IM#29][im29b10.txt]3942

Apr 2003 Child of a Century, Alfred de Musset, v3 [IM#28][im28b10.txt]3941

Apr 2003 Child of a Century, Alfred de Musset, v2 [IM#27][im27b10.txt]3940

Apr 2003 Child of a Century, Alfred de Musset, v1 [IM#26][im26b10.txt]3939

Apr 2003 Entire A Woodland Queen, by Andre Theuriet [IM#25][im25b10.txt]3938

Apr 2003 A Woodland Queen, by Andre Theuriet, v3 [IM#24][im24b10.txt]3937

Apr 2003 A Woodland Queen, by Andre Theuriet, v2 [IM#23][im23b10.txt]3936

Apr 2003 A Woodland Queen, by Andre Theuriet, v1 [IM#22][im22b10.txt]3935

Apr 2003 The Entire Zebiline by Phillipe de Masa [IM#21][im21b10.txt]3934

Apr 2003 Zebiline by Phillipe de Masa, v3 [IM#20][im20b10.txt]3933

Apr 2003 Zebiline by Phillipe de Masa, v2 [IM#19][im19b10.txt]3932

Apr 2003 Zebiline by Phillipe de Masa, v1 [IM#18][im18b10.txt]3931

Apr 2003 The Entire Prince Zilah by Jules Claretie [IM#17][im17b10.txt]3930

Apr 2003 Prince Zilah, by Jules Claretie, v3 [IM#16][im16b10.txt]3929

Apr 2003 Prince Zilah, by Jules Claretie, v2 [IM#15][im15b10.txt]3928

Apr 2003 Prince Zilah, by Jules Claretie, v1 [IM#14][im14b10.txt]3927

Apr 2003 The Entire MM.and Bebe by Gustave Droz [IM#13][im13b10.txt]3926

Apr 2003 MM.and Bebe by Gustave Droz, v3 [IM#12][im12b10.txt]3925

Apr 2003 MM.and Bebe by Gustave Droz, v2 [IM#11][im11b10.txt]3924

Apr 2003 MM.and Bebe by Gustave Droz, v1 [IM#10][im10b10.txt]3923

Apr 2003 Entire The Red Lily, by Anatole France [IM#09][im09b10.txt]3922

Apr 2003 The Red Lily, by Anatole France, v3 [IM#08][im08b10.txt]3921

Apr 2003 The Red Lily, by Anatole France, v2 [IM#07][im07b10.txt]3920

Apr 2003 The Red Lily, by Anatole France, v1 [IM#06][im06b10.txt]3919

Apr 2003 The Entire Serge Panine, by Georges Ohnet [IM#05][im05b10.txt]3918

Apr 2003 Serge Panine, by Georges Ohnet, v4 [IM#04][im04b10.txt]3917

Apr 2003 Serge Panine, by Georges Ohnet, v3 [IM#03][im03b10.txt]3916

Apr 2003 Serge Panine, by Georges Ohnet, v2 [IM#02][im02b10.txt]3915

Apr 2003 Serge Panine, by Georges Ohnet, v1 [IM#01][im01b10.txt]3914

GENERAL INTRODUCTION TO THE SERIES BY GASTON BOISSIER, SECRETAIRE PERPETUEL DE L'ACADEMIE FRANCAISE.

The editor-in-chief of the Maison Mazarin—a man of letters who cherishes an enthusiastic yet discriminating love for the literary and artistic glories of France—formed within the last two pears the great project of collecting and presenting to the vast numbers of intelligent readers of whom New World boasts a series of those great and undying romances which, since 1784, have received the crown of merit awarded by the French Academy—that coveted assurance of immortality in letters and in art.

In the presentation of this serious enterprise for the criticism and official sanction of The Academy, 'en seance', was included a request that, if possible, the task of writing a preface to the series should be undertaken by me. Official sanction having been bestowed upon the plan, I, as the accredited officer of the French Academy, convey to you its hearty appreciation, endorsement, and sympathy with a project so nobly artistic. It is also my duty, privilege, and pleasure to point out, at the request of my brethren, the peculiar importance and lasting value of this series to all who would know the inner life of a people whose greatness no turns of fortune have been able to diminish.

In the last hundred years France has experienced the most terrible vicissitudes, but, vanquished or victorious, triumphant or abased, never has she lost her peculiar gift of attracting the curiosity of the world. She interests every living being, and even those who do not love her desire to know her. To this peculiar attraction which radiates from her, artists and men of letters can well bear witness, since it is to literature and to the arts, before all, that France owes such living and lasting power. In every quarter of the civilized world there are distinguished writers, painters, and eminent musicians, but in France they exist in greater numbers than elsewhere. Moreover, it is universally conceded that French writers and artists have this particular and praiseworthy quality: they are most accessible to people of other countries. Without losing their national characteristics, they possess the happy gift of universality. To speak of letters alone: the books that Frenchmen write are read, translated, dramatized, and imitated everywhere; so it is not strange that these books give to foreigners a desire for a nearer and more intimate acquaintance with France.

Men preserve an almost innate habit of resorting to Paris from almost every quarter of the globe. For many years American visitors have been more numerous than others, although the journey from the United States is long and costly. But I am sure that when for the first time they see Paris—its palaces, its churches, its museums—and visit Versailles, Fontainebleau, and Chantilly, they do not regret the travail they have undergone. Meanwhile, however, I ask myself whether such sightseeing is all that, in coming hither, they wish to accomplish. Intelligent travellers—and, as a rule, it is the intelligent class that feels the need of the educative influence of travel—look at our beautiful monuments, wander through the streets and squares among the crowds that fill them, and, observing them, I ask myself again: Do not such people desire to study at closer range these persons who elbow them as they pass; do they not wish to enter the houses of which they see but the facades; do they not wish to know how Parisians live and speak and act by their firesides? But time, alas! is lacking for the formation of those intimate friendships which would bring this knowledge within their grasp. French homes are rarely open to birds of passage, and visitors leave us with regret that they have not been able to see more than the surface of our civilization or to recognize by experience the note of our inner home life.

How, then, shall this void be filled? Speaking in the first person, the simplest means appears to be to study those whose profession it is to describe the society of the time, and primarily, therefore, the works of dramatic writers, who are supposed to draw a faithful picture of it. So we go to the theatre, and usually derive keen pleasure therefrom. But is pleasure all that we expect to find? What we should look for above everything in a comedy or a drama is a representation, exact as possible, of the manners and characters of the dramatis persona of the play; and perhaps the conditions under which the play was written do not allow such representation. The exact and studied portrayal of a character demands from the author long preparation, and cannot be accomplished in a few hours. From, the first scene to the last, each tale must be posed in the author's mind exactly as it will be proved to be at the end. It is the author's aim and mission to place completely before his audience the souls of the "agonists" laying bare the complications of motive, and throwing into relief the delicate shades of motive that sway them. Often, too, the play is produced before a numerous audience—an audience often distrait, always pressed for time, and impatient of the least delay. Again, the public in general require that they shall be able to understand without difficulty, and at first thought, the characters the author seeks to present, making it necessary that these characters be depicted from their most salient sides—which are too often vulgar and unattractive.

In our comedies and dramas it is not the individual that is drawn, but the type. Where the individual alone is real, the type is a myth of the imagination—a pure invention. And invention is the mainspring of the theatre, which rests purely upon illusion, and does not please us unless it begins by deceiving us.

I believe, then, that if one seeks to know the world exactly as it is, the theatre does not furnish the means whereby one can pursue the study. A far better opportunity for knowing the private life of a people is available through the medium of its great novels. The novelist deals with each person as an individual. He speaks to his reader at an hour when the mind is disengaged from worldly affairs, and he can add without restraint every detail that seems needful to him to complete the rounding of his story. He can return at will, should he choose, to the source of the plot he is unfolding, in order that his reader may better understand him; he can emphasize and dwell upon those details which an audience in a theatre will not allow.

The reader, being at leisure, feels no impatience, for he knows that he can at any time lay down or take up the book. It is the consciousness of this privilege that gives him patience, should he encounter a dull page here or there. He may hasten or delay his reading, according to the interest he takes in his romance-nay, more, he can return to the earlier pages, should he need to do so, for a better comprehension of some obscure point. In proportion as he is attracted and interested by the romance, and also in the degree of concentration with which he reads it, does he grasp better the subtleties of the narrative. No shade of character drawing escapes him. He realizes, with keener appreciation, the most delicate of human moods, and the novelist is not compelled to introduce the characters to him, one by one, distinguishing them only by the most general characteristics, but can describe each of those little individual idiosyncrasies that contribute to the sum total of a living personality.

When I add that the dramatic author is always to a certain extent a slave to the public, and must ever seek to please the passing taste of his time, it will be recognized that he is often, alas! compelled to sacrifice his artistic leanings to popular caprice-that is, if he has the natural desire that his generation should applaud him.

As a rule, with the theatre-going masses, one person follows the fads or fancies of others, and individual judgments are too apt to be irresistibly swayed by current opinion. But the novelist, entirely independent of his reader, is not compelled to conform himself to the opinion of any person, or to submit to his caprices. He is absolutely free to picture society as he sees it, and we therefore can have more confidence in his descriptions of the customs and characters of the day.

It is precisely this view of the case that the editor of the series has taken, and herein is the raison d'etre of this collection of great French romances. The choice was not easy to make. That form of literature called the romance abounds with us. France has always loved it, for French writers exhibit a curiosity—and I may say an indiscretion—that is almost charming in the study of customs and morals at large; a quality that induces them to talk freely of themselves and of their neighbors, and to set forth fearlessly both the good and the bad in human nature. In this fascinating phase of literature, France never has produced greater examples than of late years.

In the collection here presented to American readers will be found those works especially which reveal the intimate side of French social life- works in which are discussed the moral problems that affect most potently the life of the world at large. If inquiring spirits seek to learn the customs and manners of the France of any age, they must look for it among her crowned romances. They need go back no farther than Ludovic Halevy, who may be said to open the modern epoch. In the romantic school, on its historic side, Alfred de Vigny must be looked upon as supreme. De Musset and Anatole France may be taken as revealing authoritatively the moral philosophy of nineteenth-century thought. I must not omit to mention the Jacqueline of Th. Bentzon, and the "Attic" Philosopher of Emile Souvestre, nor the, great names of Loti, Claretie, Coppe, Bazin, Bourget, Malot, Droz, De Massa, and last, but not least, our French Dickens, Alphonse Daudet. I need not add more; the very names of these "Immortals" suffice to commend the series to readers in all countries.

One word in conclusion: America may rest assured that her students of international literature will find in this series of 'ouvrages couronnes' all that they may wish to know of France at her own fireside—a knowledge that too often escapes them, knowledge that embraces not only a faithful picture of contemporary life in the French provinces, but a living and exact description of French society in modern times. They may feel certain that when they have read these romances, they will have sounded the depths and penetrated into the hidden intimacies of France, not only as she is, but as she would be known.

GASTON BOISSIER

SECRETAIRE PERPETUEL DE L'ACADEMIE FRANCAISE

THE IMMORTALS OF THE FRENCH ACADEMY

SERGE PANINE, BY GEORGES OHNET

SERGE PANINE, BY GEORGES OHNET, V1

[IM#01][im01b10.txt]3914

A man weeps with difficulty before a woman

Antagonism to plutocracy and hatred of aristocrats

Enough to be nobody's unless I belong to him

Even those who do not love her desire to know her

Flayed and roasted alive by the critics

Hard workers are pitiful lovers

He lost his time, his money, his hair, his illusions

He was very unhappy at being misunderstood

I thought the best means of being loved were to deserve it

Men of pleasure remain all their lives mediocre workers

My aunt is jealous of me because I am a man of ideas

Negroes, all but monkeys!

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

Unqualified for happiness

You are talking too much about it to be sincere

SERGE PANINE, BY GEORGES OHNET, V2

[IM#02][im02b10.txt]3915

A uniform is the only garb which can hide poverty honorably

Forget a dream and accept a reality

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?

Nothing that provokes laughter more than a disappointed lover

Suffering is a human law; the world is an arena

The uncontested power which money brings

We had taken the dream of a day for eternal happiness

What is a man who remains useless

SERGE PANINE, BY GEORGES OHNET, V3

[IM#03][im03b10.txt]3916

Because they moved, they thought they were progressing

Everywhere was feverish excitement, dissipation, and nullity

It was a relief when they rose from the table

Money troubles are not mortal

One amuses one's self at the risk of dying

Scarcely was one scheme launched when another idea occurred

Talk with me sometimes. You will not chatter trivialities

They had only one aim, one passion—to enjoy themselves

Without a care or a cross, he grew weary like a prisoner

SERGE PANINE, BY GEORGES OHNET, V4

[IM#04][im04b10.txt]3917

Cowardly in trouble as he had been insolent in prosperity

Heed that you lose not in dignity what you gain in revenge

She would have liked the world to be in mourning

The guilty will not feel your blows, but the innocent

THE ENTIRE SERGE PANINE, BY GEORGES OHNET

[IM#05][im05b10.txt]3918

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

THE RED LILY, BY ANATOLE FRANCE

THE RED LILY, BY ANATOLE FRANCE, V1

[IM#06][im06b10.txt]3919

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

Do you think that people have not talked about us?

Each had regained freedom, but he did not like to be alone

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 does not bear ill-will to those whom he persecutes

He is not intelligent enough to doubt

He studied until the last moment

Her husband had become quite bearable

His habit of pleasing had prolonged his youth

I feel in them (churches) the grandeur of nothingness

I gave myself to him because he loved me

I haven't a taste, I have tastes

It was too late: she did not wish to win

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

Life as a whole is too vast and too remote

Life is made up of just such trifles

Life is not a great thing

Love was only a brief intoxication

Made life give all it could yield

Miserable beings who contribute to the grandeur of the past

None but fools resisted the current

Not everything is known, but everything is said

One would think that the wind would put them out: the stars

Picturesquely ugly

Recesses of her mind which she preferred not to open

Relatives whom she did not know and who irritated her

She is happy, since she likes to remember

She pleased society by appearing to find pleasure in it

Should like better to do an immoral thing than a cruel one

So well satisfied with his reply that he repeated it twice

That if we live the reason is that we hope

That sort of cold charity which is called altruism

The discouragement which the irreparable gives

The most radical breviary of scepticism since Montaigne

The violent pleasure of losing

Umbrellas, like black turtles under the watery skies

Was I not warned enough of the sadness of everything?

Whether they know or do not know, they talk

THE RED LILY, BY ANATOLE FRANCE, V2

[IM#07][im07b10.txt]3920

A woman is frank when she does not lie uselessly

Disappointed her to escape the danger she had feared

Does not wish one to treat it with either timidity or brutality

He knew now the divine malady of love

I do not desire your friendship

I have known things which I know no more

I wished to spoil our past

Impatient at praise which was not destined for himself

Incapable of conceiving that one might talk without an object

Jealous without having the right to be jealous

Lovers never separate kindly

Magnificent air of those beggars of whom small towns are proud

Nobody troubled himself about that originality

One who first thought of pasting a canvas on a panel

Simple people who doubt neither themselves nor others

Superior men sometimes lack cleverness

The door of one's room opens on the infinite

The one whom you will love and who will love you will harm you

The past is the only human reality—Everything that is, is past

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

Unfortunate creature who is the plaything of life

What will be the use of having tormented ourselves in this world

Women do not always confess it, but it is always their fault

You must take me with my own soul!

THE RED LILY, BY ANATOLE FRANCE, V3

[IM#08][im08b10.txt]3921

Does one ever possess what one loves?

Each was moved with self-pity

Everybody knows about that

(Housemaid) is trained to respect my disorder

I can forget you only when I am with you

I have to pay for the happiness you give me

I love myself because you love me

Ideas they think superior to love—faith, habits, interests

Immobility of time

It is an error to be in the right too soon

It was torture for her not to be able to rejoin him

Kissses and caresses are the effort of a delightful despair

Let us give to men irony and pity as witnesses and judges

Little that we can do when we are powerful

Love is a soft and terrible force, more powerful than beauty

Nothing is so legitimate, so human, as to deceive pain

One is never kind when one is in love

One should never leave the one whom one loves

Seemed to him that men were grains in a coffee-mill

Since she was in love, she had lost prudence

That absurd and generous fury for ownership

The politician never should be in advance of circumstances

The real support of a government is the Opposition

There is nothing good except to ignore and to forget

We are too happy; we are robbing life

ENTIRE THE RED LILY, BY ANATOLE FRANCE

[IM#09][im09b10.txt]3922

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

Kissses 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!

MADAME, MONSIEUR. AND BEBE BY GUSTAVE DROZ

MM. AND BEBE BY GUSTAVE DROZ, V1

[IM#10][im10b10.txt]3923

A ripe husband, ready to fall from the tree

Answer "No," but with a little kiss which means "Yes"

As regards love, intention and deed are the same

Clumsily, blew his nose, to the great relief of his two arms

Emotion when one does not share it

Hearty laughter which men affect to assist digestion

How rich we find ourselves when we rummage in old drawers

Husband who loves you and eats off the same plate is better

I came here for that express purpose

Ignorant of everything, undesirous of learning anything

It is silly to blush under certain circumstances

Love in marriage is, as a rule, too much at his ease

Rather do not give—make yourself sought after

Reckon yourself happy if in your husband you find a lover

There are pious falsehoods which the Church excuses

To be able to smoke a cigar without being sick

Why mankind has chosen to call marriage a man-trap

MM. AND BEBE BY GUSTAVE DROZ, V2

[IM#11][im11b10.txt]3924

But she thinks she is affording you pleasure

Do not seek too much

First impression is based upon a number of trifles

Sometimes like to deck the future in the garments of the past

The heart requires gradual changes

MM. AND BEBE BY GUSTAVE DROZ, V3

[IM#12][im12b10.txt]3925

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

He Would Have Been Forty Now

How many things have not people been proud of

I am not wandering through life, I am marching on

I do not accept the hypothesis of a world made for us

I would give two summers for a single autumn

In his future arrange laurels for a little crown for your own

It (science) dreams, too; it supposes

Learned to love others by embracing their own children

Life is not so sweet for us to risk ourselves in it singlehanded

Man is but one of the links of an immense chain

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

The future promises, it is the present that pays

The future that is rent away

The recollection of that moment lasts for a lifetime

Their love requires a return

Ties that unite children to parents are unloosed

Ties which unite parents to children are broken

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

THE ENTIRE MM. AND BEBE BY GUSTAVE DROZ

[IM#13][im13b10.txt]3926

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

PRINCE ZILAH, BY JULES CLARETIE

PRINCE ZILAH, BY JULES CLARETIE, V1

[IM#14][im14b10.txt]3927

A man's life belongs to his duty, and not to his happiness

All defeats have their geneses

Foreigners are more Parisian than the Parisians themselves

One of those beings who die, as they have lived, children

Playing checkers, that mimic warfare of old men

Superstition which forbids one to proclaim his happiness

The Hungarian was created on horseback

There were too many discussions, and not enough action

Would not be astonished at anything

You suffer? Is fate so just as that

PRINCE ZILAH, BY JULES CLARETIE, V2

[IM#15][im15b10.txt]3928

Life is a tempest

Nervous natures, as prompt to hope as to despair

No answer to make to one who has no right to question me

Nothing ever astonishes me

Poverty brings wrinkles

PRINCE ZILAH, BY JULES CLARETIE, V3

[IM#16][im16b10.txt]3929

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?

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!

Man who expects nothing of life except its ending

Not only his last love, but his only love

Pessimism of to-day sneering at his confidence of yesterday

Sufferer becomes, as it were, enamored of his own agony

Taken the times as they are

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

THE ENTIRE PRINCE ZILAH BY JULES CLARETIE

[IM#17][im17b10.txt]3930ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

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

ZEBILINE BY PHILLIPE DE MASA

ZEBILINE BY PHILLIPE DE MASA, V1

[IM#18][im18b10.txt]3931

Life goes on, and that is less gay than the stories

Men admired her; the women sought some point to criticise

ZEBILINE BY PHILLIPE DE MASA, V2

[IM#19][im19b10.txt]3932

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

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

You are in a conquered country, which is still more dangerous

ZEBILINE BY PHILLIPE DE MASA, V3

[IM#20][im20b10.txt]3933

All that was illogical in our social code

Only a man, wavering and changeable

Their Christian charity did not extend so far as that

There are mountains that we never climb but once

THE ENTIRE ZEBILINE BY PHILLIPE DE MASA

[IM#21][im21b10.txt]3934

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

A WOODLAND QUEEN, BY ANDRE THEURIET

A WOODLAND QUEEN, BY ANDRE THEURIET, V1

[IM#22][im22b10.txt]3935

Amusements they offered were either wearisome or repugnant

Dreaded the monotonous regularity of conjugal life

Fawning duplicity

Had not been spoiled by Fortune's gifts

Hypocritical grievances

I am not in the habit of consulting the law

It does not mend matters to give way like that

Opposing his orders with steady, irritating inertia

There are some men who never have had any childhood

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

A WOODLAND QUEEN, BY ANDRE THEURIET, V2

[IM#23][im23b10.txt]3936

I measure others by myself

Like all timid persons, he took refuge in a moody silence

Others found delight in the most ordinary amusements

Sensitiveness and disposition to self-blame

Women: they are more bitter than death

Yield to their customs, and not pooh-pooh their amusements

You must be pleased with yourself—that is more essential

A WOODLAND QUEEN, BY ANDRE THEURIET, V3

[IM#24][im24b10.txt]3937

Accustomed to hide what I think

Consoled himself with one of the pious commonplaces

How small a space man occupies on the earth

More disposed to discover evil than good

Nature's cold indifference to our sufferings

Never is perfect happiness our lot

Plead the lie to get at the truth

The ease with which he is forgotten

Those who have outlived their illusions

Timidity of a night-bird that is made to fly in the day

Vexed, act in direct contradiction to their own wishes

You have considerable patience for a lover

ENTIRE A WOODLAND QUEEN, BY ANDRE THEURIET

[IM#25][im25b10.txt]3938

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

CHILD OF A CENTURY, ALFRED DE MUSSET

CHILD OF A CENTURY, ALFRED DE MUSSET, V1

[IM#26][im26b10.txt]3939

A terrible danger lurks in the knowledge of what is possible

Accustomed to call its disguise virtue

All that is not life, it is the noise of life

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

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

Force itself, that mistress of the world

Galileo struck the earth, crying: "Nevertheless it moves!"

Grief itself was for her but a means of seducing

He lives only in the body

Human weakness seeks association

I boasted of being worse than I really was

I can not love her, I can not love another

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

Men doubted everything: the young men denied everything

Of all the sisters of love, the most beautiful is pity

Perfection does not exist

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

St. Augustine

Ticking of which (our arteries) can be heard only at night

When passion sways man, reason follows him weeping and warning

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 turn the leaves of dead books

Youth is to judge of the world from first impressions

CHILD OF A CENTURY, ALFRED DE MUSSET, V2

[IM#27][im27b10.txt]3940

Adieu, my son, I love you and I die

All philosophy is akin to atheism

And when love is sure of itself and knows response

Can any one prevent a gossip

Each one knows what the other is about to say

Good and bad days succeeded each other almost regularly

Great sorrows neither accuse nor blaspheme—they listen

Happiness of being pursued

He who is loved by a beautiful woman is sheltered from every blow

I neither love nor esteem sadness

It is a pity that you must seek pastimes

Man who suffers wishes to make her whom he loves suffer

No longer esteemed her highly enough to be jealous of her

Pure caprice that I myself mistook for a flash of reason

Quarrel had been, so to speak, less sad than our reconciliation

She pretended to hope for the best

Terrible words; I deserve them, but they will kill me

There are two different men in you

We have had a mass celebrated, and it cost us a large sum

What human word will ever express thy slightest caress

What you take for love is nothing more than desire

CHILD OF A CENTURY, ALFRED DE MUSSET, V3

[IM#28][im28b10.txt]3941

Because you weep, you fondly imagine yourself innocent

Cold silence, that negative force

Contrive to use proud disdain as a shield

Fool who destroys his own happiness

Funeral processions are no longer permitted

How much they desire to be loved who say they love no more

I can not be near you and separated from you at the same moment

Is it not enough to have lived?

Make a shroud of your virtue in which to bury your crimes

Reading the Memoirs of Constant

Sometimes we seem to enjoy unhappiness

Speak to me of your love, she said, "not of your grief

Suffered, and yet took pleasure in it

Suspicions that are ever born anew

"Unhappy man!" she cried, "you will never know how to love

Who has told you that tears can wash away the stains of guilt

You play with happiness as a child plays with a rattle

Your great weapon is silence

ENTIRE CHILD OF A CENTURY, ALFRED DE MUSSET

[IM#29][im29b10.txt]3942

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

MONSIEUR DE CAMORS BY OCTAVE FEUILLET

MONSIEUR DE CAMORS BY OCTAVE FEUILLET, V1

[IM#30][im30b10.txt]3943

Bad to fear the opinion of people one despises

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

Do not get angry. Rarely laugh, and never weep

Every cause that is in antagonism with its age commits suicide

Every one is the best judge of his own affairs

Every road leads to Rome—and one as surely as another

God—or no principles!

He is charming, for one always feels in danger near him

Intemperance of her zeal and the acrimony of her bigotry

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

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

'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

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

MONSIEUR DE CAMORS BY OCTAVE FEUILLET, V2

[IM#31][im31b10.txt]3944

A defensive attitude is never agreeable to a man

Believing that it is for virtue's sake alone such men love them

Determined to cultivate ability rather than scrupulousness

Disenchantment which follows possession

Have not that pleasure, it is useless to incur the penalties

Inconstancy of heart is the special attribute of man

Knew her danger, and, unlike most of them, she did not love it

Put herself on good terms with God, in case He should exist

Two persons who desired neither to remember nor to forget

MONSIEUR DE CAMORS BY OCTAVE FEUILLET, V3

[IM#32][im32b10.txt]3945

A man never should kneel unless sure of rising a conqueror

One of those pious persons who always think evil

ENTIRE MONSIEUR DE CAMORS BY OCT. Feuillet

[IM#33][im33b10.txt]3946

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

CINQ MARS, BY ALFRED DE VIGNY

CINQ MARS, BY ALFRED DE VIGNY, V1

[IM#34][im34b10.txt]3947

Adopted fact is always better composed than the real one

Advantage that a calm temper gives one over men

Art is the chosen truth

Artificialities of style of that period

Artistic Truth, more lofty than the True

As Homer says, "smiling under tears"

Difference which I find between Truth in art and the True in fac

Happy is he who does not outlive his youth

He did not blush to be a man, and he spoke to men with force

History too was a work of art

In every age we laugh at the costume of our fathers

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

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

No writer had more dislike of mere pedantry

Offices will end by rendering great names vile

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

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

CINQ MARS, BY ALFRED DE VIGNY, V2

[IM#35][im35b10.txt]3948

Doubt, the greatest misery of love

Never interfered in what did not concern him

So strongly does force impose upon men

The usual remarks prompted by imbecility on such occasions

CINQ MARS, BY ALFRED DE VIGNY, V3

[IM#36][im36b10.txt]3949

Ambition is the saddest of all hopes

Assume with others the mien they wore toward him

Men are weak, and there are things which women must accomplish

CINQ MARS, BY ALFRED DE VIGNY, V4

[IM#37][im37b10.txt]3950

A queen's country is where her throne is

All that he said, I had already thought

Always the first word which is the most difficult to say

Dare now to be silent when I have told you these things

Daylight is detrimental to them

Friendship exists only in independence and a kind of equality

I have burned all the bridges behind me

In pitying me he forgot himself

In times like these we must see all and say all

Reproaches are useless and cruel if the evil is done

Should be punished for not having known how to punish

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

This popular favor is a cup one must drink

This was the Dauphin, afterward Louis XIV

CINQ MARS, BY ALFRED DE VIGNY, V5

[IM#38][im38b10.txt]3951

They have believed me incapable because I was kind

They tremble while they threaten

CINQ MARS, BY ALFRED DE VIGNY, V6

[IM#39][im39b10.txt]3952

A cat is a very fine animal. It is a drawing-room tiger

But how avenge one's self on silence?

Deny the spirit of self-sacrifice

Hatred of everything which is superior to myself

Hermits can not refrain from inquiring what men say of them

Princes ought never to be struck, except on the head

These ideas may serve as opium to produce a calm

They loved not as you love, eh?

THE ENTIRE CINQ MARS, BY ALFRED DE VIGNY

[IM#40][im40b10.txt]3953

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

L'ABBE CONSTANTIN BY LUDOVIC HALEVY

L'ABBE CONSTANTIN BY LUDOVIC HALEVY, V1

[IM#41][im41b10.txt]3954

Ancient pillars of stone, embrowned and gnawed by time

And they are shoulders which ought to be seen

But she will give me nothing but money

Duty, simply accepted and simply discharged

God may have sent him to purgatory just for form's sake

He led the brilliant and miserable existence of the unoccupied

If there is one! (a paradise)

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

Succeeded in wearying him by her importunities and tenderness

The history of good people is often monotonous or painful

The women have enough religion for the men

L'ABBE CONSTANTIN BY LUDOVIC HALEVY, V2

[IM#42][im42b10.txt]3955

Believing themselves irresistible

Frenchman has only one real luxury—his revolutions

Great difference between dearly and very much

Had not told all—one never does tell all

In order to make money, the first thing is to have no need of it

To learn to obey is the only way of learning to command

L'ABBE CONSTANTIN BY LUDOVIC HALEVY, V3

[IM#43][im43b10.txt]3956

Love and tranquillity seldom dwell at peace in the same heart

One may think of marrying, but one ought not to try to marry

APR 2003 ENTIRE L'ABBE CONSTANTIN BY LUDOVIC HALEVY

[IM#44][im44b10.txt]3957

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

A ROMANCE OF YOUTH BY FRANCOIS COPPEE, V1

[IM#45][im45b10.txt]3958

Break in his memory, like a book with several leaves torn out

Inoffensive tree which never had harmed anybody

It was all delightfully terrible!

Mild, unpretentious men who let everybody run over them

Now his grief was his wife, and lived with him

Tediousness seems to ooze out through their bindings

Tired smile of those who have not long to live

Trees are like men; there are some that have no luck

Voice of the heart which alone has power to reach the heart

When he sings, it is because he has something to sing about

A ROMANCE OF YOUTH BY FRANCOIS COPPEE, V2

[IM#46][im46b10.txt]3959

Dreams, instead of living

Fortunate enough to keep those one loves

Learned that one leaves college almost ignorant

Paint from nature

The sincere age when one thinks aloud

Upon my word, there are no ugly ones (women)

Very young, and was in love with love

A ROMANCE OF YOUTH BY FRANCOIS COPPEE, V3

[IM#47][im47b10.txt]3960

Good form consists, above all things, in keeping silent

Intimate friend, whom he has known for about five minutes

My good fellow, you are quite worthless as a man of pleasure

Society people condemned to hypocrisy and falsehood

A ROMANCE OF YOUTH BY FRANCOIS COPPEE, V4

[IM#48][im48b10.txt]3961

Egotists and cowards always have a reason for everything

Eternally condemned to kill each other in order to live

God forgive the timid and the prattler!

Happiness exists only by snatches and lasts only a moment

He almost regretted her

He does not know the miseries of ambition and vanity

How sad these old memorics are in the autumn

Never travel when the heart is troubled!

Not more honest than necessary

Poor France of Jeanne d'Arc and of Napoleon

Redouble their boasting after each defeat

Take their levity for heroism

The leaves fall! the leaves fall!

Universal suffrage, with its accustomed intelligence

Were certain against all reason

ENTIRE ROMANCE OF YOUTH BY FRANCOIS COPPEE

[IM#49][im49b10.txt]3962

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

COSMOPOLIS BY PAUL BOURGET

COSMOPOLIS BY PAUL BOURGET, V1

[IM#50][im50b10.txt]3963

Follow their thoughts instead of heeding objects

Has as much sense as the handle of a basket

Mediocre sensibility

No flies enter a closed mouth

Pitiful checker-board of life

Scarcely a shade of gentle condescension

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

Thinking it better not to lie on minor points

Too prudent to risk or gain much

Walked at the rapid pace characteristic of monomaniacs

COSMOPOLIS BY PAUL BOURGET, V2

[IM#51][im51b10.txt]3964

Conditions of blindness so voluntary that they become complicity

Despotism natural to puissant personalities

Egyptian tobacco, mixed with opium and saltpetre

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

Melancholy problem of the birth and death of love

Only one thing infamous in love, and that is a falsehood

Words are nothing; it is the tone in which they are uttered

COSMOPOLIS BY PAUL BOURGET, V3

[IM#52][im52b10.txt]3965

One of those trustful men who did not judge when they loved

That suffering which curses but does not pardon

COSMOPOLIS BY PAUL BOURGET, V4

[IM#53][im53b10.txt]3966

Mobile and complaisant conscience had already forgiven himself

Not an excuse, but an explanation of your conduct

Sufficed him to conceive the plan of a reparation

There is always and everywhere a duty to fulfil

ENTIRE COSMOPOLIS BY PAUL BOURGET

[IM#54][im54b10.txt]3967

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

JACQUELINE BY TH. BENTZON (MME. BLANC)

JACQUELINE BY TH. BENTZON (MME. BLANC), V1

[IM#55][im55b10.txt]3968

Great interval between a dream and its execution

Music—so often dangerous to married happiness

Old women—at least thirty years old!

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

Waste all that upon a thing that nobody will ever look at

Women who are thirty-five should never weep

JACQUELINE BY TH. BENTZON (MME. BLANC), V2

[IM#56][im56b10.txt]3969

A mother's geese are always swans

Bathers, who exhibited themselves in all degrees of ugliness

Fred's verses were not good, but they were full of dejection

Hang out the bush, but keep no tavern

A familiarity which, had he known it, was not flattering

His sleeplessness was not the insomnia of genius

Importance in this world are as easily swept away as the sand

Natural longing, that we all have, to know the worst

Notion of her husband's having an opinion of his own

Pride supplies some sufferers with necessary courage

Seemed to enjoy themselves, or made believe they did

This unending warfare we call love

Unwilling to leave him to the repose he needed

JACQUELINE BY TH. BENTZON (MME. BLANC), V3

[IM#57][im57b10.txt]3970

As we grow older we lay aside harsh judgments and sharp words

Blow which annihilates our supreme illusion

Death is not that last sleep

Fool (there is no cure for that infirmity)

The worst husband is always better than none

ENTIRE JACQUELINE BY BENTZON (MME. BLANC

[IM#58][im58b10.txt]3971

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

THE INK-STAIN BY RENE BAZIN

THE INK-STAIN BY RENE BAZIN, V1

[IM#59][im59b10.txt]3972

Happy men don't need company

Lends—I should say gives

Natural only when alone, and talk well only to themselves

One doesn't offer apologies to a man in his wrath

Silence, alas! is not the reproof of kings alone

The looks of the young are always full of the future

You a law student, while our farmers are in want of hands

THE INK-STAIN BY RENE BAZIN, V2

[IM#60][im60b10.txt]3973

Came not in single spies, but in battalions

Men forget sooner

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

To be your own guide doubles your pleasure

You must always first get the tobacco to burn evenly

THE INK-STAIN BY RENE BAZIN, V3

[IM#61][im61b10.txt]3974

All that a name is to a street—its honor, its spouse

Distrust first impulse

Felix culpa

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

Obstacles are the salt of all our joys

People meeting to "have it out" usually say nothing at first

The very smell of books is improving

There are some blunders that are lucky; but you can't tell

You ask Life for certainties, as if she had any to give you

ENTIRE THE INK-STAIN BY RENE BAZIN

[IM#62][im62b10.txt]3975

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

FROMONT AND RISLER BY ALPHONSE DAUDET

FROMONT AND RISLER BY ALPHONSE DAUDET, V1

[IM#63][im63b10.txt]3976

Affectation of indifference

Always smiling condescendingly

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

He fixed the time mentally when he would speak

Little feathers fluttering for an opportunity to fly away

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 groom isn't handsome, but the bride's as pretty as a picture

The poor must pay for all their enjoyments

FROMONT AND RISLER BY ALPHONSE DAUDET, V2

[IM#64][im64b10.txt]3977

Charm of that one day's rest and its solemnity

Clashing knives and forks mark time

Faces taken by surprise allow their real thoughts to be seen

Make for themselves a horizon of the neighboring walls and roofs

Wiping his forehead ostentatiously

FROMONT AND RISLER BY ALPHONSE DAUDET, V3

[IM#65][im65b10.txt]3978

Abundant details which he sometimes volunteered

Exaggerated dramatic pantomime

Void in her heart, a place made ready for disasters to come

Would have liked him to be blind only so far as he was concerned

FROMONT AND RISLER BY ALPHONSE DAUDET, V4

[IM#66][im66b10.txt]3979

A man may forgive, but he never forgets

Word "sacrifice," so vague on careless lips

THE ENTIRE FROMONT AND RISLER, BY DAUDET

[IM#67][im67b10.txt]3980

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

GERFAUT, BY CHARLES DE BERNARD

GERFAUT BY CHARLES DE BERNARD, V1

[IM#68][im68b10.txt]3981

Evident that the man was above his costume; a rare thing!

Mania for fearing that she may be compromised

Material in you to make one of Cooper's redskins

Recourse to concessions is often as fatal to women as to kings

Those whom they most amuse are those who are best worth amusing

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

GERFAUT BY CHARLES DE BERNARD, V2

[IM#69][im69b10.txt]3982

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

Misfortunes never come single

No woman is unattainable, except when she loves another

These are things that one admits only to himself

Topics that occupy people who meet for the first time

You are playing 'who loses wins!'

GERFAUT BY CHARLES DE BERNARD, V3

[IM#70][im70b10.txt]3983

Antipathy for her husband bordering upon aversion

Attractions that difficulties give to pleasure

Consented to become a wife so as not to remain a maiden

Despotic tone which a woman assumes when sure of her empire

Love is a fire whose heat dies out for want of fuel

Regards his happiness as a proof of superiority

She said yes, so as not to say no

GERFAUT BY CHARLES DE BERNARD, V4

[IM#71][im71b10.txt]3984

Attractive abyss of drunkenness

Obstinacy of drunkenness

THE ENTIRE GERFAUT BY CHARLES DE BERNARD

[IM#72][im72b10.txt]3985

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!'

CONSCIENCE BY HECTOR MALOT

CONSCIENCE BY HECTOR MALOT, V1

[IM#73][im73b10.txt]3986

As free from prejudices as one may be, one always retains a few

As ignorant as a schoolmaster

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

Force, which is the last word of the philosophy of life

I believed in the virtue of work, and look at me!

Intelligent persons have no remorse

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

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

Will not admit that conscience is the proper guide of our action

CONSCIENCE BY HECTOR MALOT, V2

[IM#74][im74b10.txt]3987

For the rest of his life he would be the prisoner of his crime

In his eyes everything was decided by luck

Looking for a needle in a bundle of hay

Neither so simple nor so easy as they at first appeared

CONSCIENCE BY HECTOR MALOT, V3

[IM#75][im75b10.txt]3988

It is the first crime that costs

Repeated and explained what he had already said and explained

You love me, therefore you do not know me

CONSCIENCE BY HECTOR MALOT, V4

[IM#76][im76b10.txt]3989

He did not sleep, so much the better! He would work more

One does not judge those whom one loves

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

THE ENTIRE CONSCIENCE BY HECTOR MALOT

[IM#77][im77b10.txt]3990

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

MADAME CHRYSANTHEME BY PIERRE LOTI

MADAME CHRYSANTHEME BY PIERRE LOTI, V1

[IM#78][im78b10.txt]3991

Efforts to arrange matters we succeed often only in disarranging

Irritating laugh which is peculiar to Japan

Ordinary, trivial, every-day objects

Seeking for a change which can no longer be found

MADAME CHRYSANTHEME BY PIERRE LOTI, V2

[IM#79][im79b10.txt]3992

Ah! the natural perversity of inanimate things

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

When the inattentive spirits are not listening

MADAME CHRYSANTHEME BY PIERRE LOTI, V3

[IM#80][im80b10.txt]3993

Dull hours spent in idle and diffuse conversation

Prayers swallowed like pills by invalids at a distance

Trees, dwarfed by a Japanese process

Which I should find amusing in any one else,—any one I loved

MADAME CHRYSANTHEME BY PIERRE LOTI, V4

[IM#81][im81b10.txt]3994

Japanese habit of expressing myself with excessive politeness

Contemptuous pity, both for my suspicions and the cause of them

THE ENTIRE MADAME CRYSANTHEME BY LOTI

[IM#82][im82b10.txt]3995

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

AN "ATTIC PHILOSOPHER" BY E. SOUVESTRE

AN "ATTIC PHILOSOPHER" BY E. SOUVESTRE, V1

[IM#83][im83b10.txt]3996

Brought them up to poverty

Carn-ival means, literally, "farewell to flesh!"

Coffee is the grand work of a bachelor's housekeeping

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

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

Her kindness, which never sleeps

Hubbub of questions which waited for no reply

Moderation is the great social virtue

No one is so unhappy as to have nothing to give

Our tempers are like an opera-glass

Poverty, you see, is a famous schoolmistress

Prisoners of work

Question is not to discover what will suit us

Ruining myself, but we must all have our Carnival

Two thirds of human existence are wasted in hesitation

What a small dwelling joy can live

AN "ATTIC" PHILOSOPHER BY E. SOUVESTRE, V2

[IM#84][im84b10.txt]3997

Always to mistake feeling for evidence

Fame and power are gifts that are dearly bought

Fortune sells what we believe she gives

Make himself a name: he becomes public property

My patronage has become her property

Not desirous to teach goodness

Power of necessity

Progress can never be forced on without danger

So much confidence at first, so much doubt at last

The man in power gives up his peace

Virtue made friends, but she did not take pupils

We are not bound to live, while we are bound to do our duty

AN "ATTIC" PHILOSOPHER BY E. SOUVESTRE, V3

[IM#85][im85b10.txt]3998

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

But above these ruins rises a calm and happy face

Contemptuous pride of knowledge

Death, that faithful friend of the wretched

Houses are vessels which take mere passengers

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

More stir than work

Nothing is dishonorable which is useful

Richer than France herself, for I have no deficit in my budget

Satisfy our wants, if we know how to set bounds to them

Sensible man, who has observed much and speaks little

Sullen tempers are excited by the patience of their victims

The happiness of the wise man costs but little

We do not understand that others may live on their own account

What have you done with the days God granted you

You may know the game by the lair

ENTIRE AN "ATTIC" PHILOSOPHER BY SOUVESTRE

[IM#86][im86b10.txt]3999

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

ENTIRE PG EDITION OF THE FRENCH IMMORTALS

ENTIRE PG EDITION OF THE FRENCH IMMORTALS

[IM#87][imewkxxx.xxx]4000

A uniform is the only garb which can hide poverty honorably

A man may forgive, but he never forgets

A mother's geese are always swans

A queen's country is where her throne is

A ripe husband, ready to fall from the tree

A terrible danger lurks in the knowledge of what is possible

A cat is a very fine animal. It is a drawing-room tiger

A familiarity which, had he known it, was not flattering

A defensive attitude is never agreeable to a man

A man weeps with difficulty before a woman

A hero must be human. Napoleon was human

A woman is frank when she does not lie uselessly

A man's life belongs to his duty, and not to his happiness

A man never should kneel unless sure of rising a conqueror

Abundant details which he sometimes volunteered

Accustomed to call its disguise virtue

Accustomed to hide what I think

Adieu, my son, I love you and I die

Adopted fact is always better composed than the real one

Advantage that a calm temper gives one over men

Affectation of indifference

Affection is catching

Ah! the natural perversity of inanimate things

All that a name is to a street—its honor, its spouse

All that was illogical in our social code

All that he said, I had already thought

All that is not life, it is the noise of life

All philosophy is akin to atheism

All babies are round, yielding, weak, timid, and soft

All defeats have their geneses

Always to mistake feeling for evidence

Always smiling condescendingly

Always the first word which is the most difficult to say

Ambiguity has no place, nor has compromise

Ambition is the saddest of all hopes

Ambroise Pare: 'I tend him, God cures him!'

Amusements they offered were either wearisome or repugnant

An hour of rest between two ordeals, a smile between two sobs

Ancient pillars of stone, embrowned and gnawed by time

And I shall say 'damn it,' for I shall then be grown up

And they are shoulders which ought to be seen

And when love is sure of itself and knows response

Anonymous, that velvet mask of scandal-mongers

Answer "No," but with a little kiss which means "Yes"

Antagonism to plutocracy and hatred of aristocrats

Anti-Semitism is making fearful progress everywhere

Antipathy for her husband bordering upon aversion

Are we then bound to others only by the enforcement of laws

Art is the chosen truth

Artificialities of style of that period

Artistic Truth, more lofty than the True

As ignorant as a schoolmaster

As free from prejudices as one may be, one always retains a few

As Homer says, "smiling under tears"

As we grow older we lay aside harsh judgments and sharp words

As regards love, intention and deed are the same

Assume with others the mien they wore toward him

At every step the reality splashes you with mud

Attach a sense of remorse to each of my pleasures

Attractions that difficulties give to pleasure

Attractive abyss of drunkenness

Bad to fear the opinion of people one despises

Bathers, who exhibited themselves in all degrees of ugliness

Because they moved, they thought they were progressing

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

Believing that it is for virtue's sake alone such men love them

Believing themselves irresistible

Beware of disgust, it is an incurable evil

Blow which annihilates our supreme illusion

Break in his memory, like a book with several leaves torn out

Brilliancy of a fortune too new

Brought them up to poverty

Bullets are not necessarily on the side of the right

But above these ruins rises a calm and happy face

But she thinks she is affording you pleasure

But how avenge one's self on silence?

But if this is our supreme farewell, do not tell me so!

But she will give me nothing but money

Came not in single spies, but in battalions

Camors refused, hesitated, made objections, and consented

Can any one prevent a gossip

Carn-ival means, literally, "farewell to flesh!

Chain so light yesterday, so heavy to-day

Charm of that one day's rest and its solemnity

Clashing knives and forks mark time

Clumsily, blew his nose, to the great relief of his two arms

Coffee is the grand work of a bachelor's housekeeping

Cold silence, that negative force

Conditions of blindness so voluntary that they become complicity

Confidence in one's self is strength, but it is also weakness

Confounding progress with discord, liberty with license

Conscience is a bad weighing-machine

Conscience is only an affair of environment and of education

Consented to become a wife so as not to remain a maiden

Consoled himself with one of the pious commonplaces

Contempt for men is the beginning of wisdom

Contemptuous pride of knowledge

Contemptuous pity, both for my suspicions and the cause of them

Contrive to use proud disdain as a shield

Convent of Saint Joseph, four shoes under the bed!

Cowardly in trouble as he had been insolent in prosperity

Cried out, with the blunt candor of his age

Curious to know her face of that day

Dangers of liberty outweighed its benefits

Dare now to be silent when I have told you these things

Daylight is detrimental to them

Death is more to be desired than a living distaste for life

Death is not that last sleep

Death, that faithful friend of the wretched

Deeming every sort of occupation beneath him

Defeat and victory only displace each other by turns

Demanded of him imperatively—the time of day

Deny the spirit of self-sacrifice

Despair of a man sick of life, or the whim of a spoiled child

Despotic tone which a woman assumes when sure of her empire

Despotism natural to puissant personalities

Determined to cultivate ability rather than scrupulousness

Did not think the world was so great

Difference which I find between Truth in art and the True in fac

Disappointed her to escape the danger she had feared

Disenchantment which follows possession

Distrust first impulse

Do you think that people have not talked about us?

Do they understand what makes them so gay?

Do they think they have invented what they see

Do not seek too much

Do not get angry. Rarely laugh, and never weep

Does not wish one to treat it with either timidity or brutality

Does one ever forget?

Does one ever possess what one loves?

Doubt, the greatest misery of love

Dreaded the monotonous regularity of conjugal life

Dreams, instead of living

Dreams of wealth and the disasters that immediately followed

Dull hours spent in idle and diffuse conversation

Duty, simply accepted and simply discharged

Each was moved with self-pity

Each had regained freedom, but he did not like to be alone

Each one knows what the other is about to say

Each of us regards himself as the mirror of the community

Ease with which the poor forget their wretchedness

Efforts to arrange matters we succeed often only in disarranging

Egotists and cowards always have a reason for everything

Egyptian tobacco, mixed with opium and saltpetre

Emotion when one does not share it

Enough to be nobody's unless I belong to him

Eternally condemned to kill each other in order to live

Even those who do not love her desire to know her

Every man is his own master in his choice of liaisons

Every one keeps his holidays in his own way

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

Everybody knows about that

Everywhere was feverish excitement, dissipation, and nullity

Evident that the man was above his costume; a rare thing!

Exaggerated dramatic pantomime

Faces taken by surprise allow their real thoughts to be seen

Fame and power are gifts that are dearly bought

Favorite and conclusive answer of his class—"I know"

Fawning duplicity

Fear of losing a moment from business

Felix culpa

Find it more easy to make myself feared than loved

Finishes his sin thoroughly before he begins to repent

First impression is based upon a number of trifles

Flayed and roasted alive by the critics

Follow their thoughts instead of heeding objects

Fool (there is no cure for that infirmity)

Fool who destroys his own happiness

For the rest of his life he would be the prisoner of his crime

Force itself, that mistress of the world

Force, which is the last word of the philosophy of life

Foreigners are more Parisian than the Parisians themselves

Forget a dream and accept a reality

Fortunate enough to keep those one loves

Fortune sells what we believe she gives

Found nothing that answered to my indefinable expectations

Fred's verses were not good, but they were full of dejection

Frenchman has only one real luxury—his revolutions

Friendship exists only in independence and a kind of equality

Fringe which makes an unlovely border to the city

Funeral processions are no longer permitted

Galileo struck the earth, crying: "Nevertheless it moves!"

Gave value to her affability by not squandering it

God forgive the timid and the prattler!

God may have sent him to purgatory just for form's sake

God—or no principles!

Good and bad days succeeded each other almost regularly

Good form consists, above all things, in keeping silent

Great interval between a dream and its execution

Great sorrows neither accuse nor blaspheme—they listen

Great difference between dearly and very much

Grief itself was for her but a means of seducing

Habit turns into a makeshift of attachment

Had not been spoiled by Fortune's gifts

Had not told all—one never does tell all

Hang out the bush, but keep no tavern

Happiness of being pursued

Happiness exists only by snatches and lasts only a moment

Happy men don't need company

Happy is he who does not outlive his youth

Hard that one can not live one's life over twice

Hard workers are pitiful lovers

Has as much sense as the handle of a basket

Hatred of everything which is superior to myself

Have never known in the morning what I would do in the evening

Have not that pleasure, it is useless to incur the penalties

He Would Have Been Forty Now

He always loved to pass for being overwhelmed with work

He almost regretted her

He fixed the time mentally when he would speak

He does not know the miseries of ambition and vanity

He knew now the divine malady of love

He lives only in the body

He did not blush to be a man, and he spoke to men with force

He was very unhappy at being misunderstood

He lost his time, his money, his hair, his illusions

He is charming, for one always feels in danger near him

He does not bear ill-will to those whom he persecutes

He could not imagine that often words are the same as actions

He studied until the last moment

He who is loved by a beautiful woman is sheltered from every blow

He is not intelligent enough to doubt

He led the brilliant and miserable existence of the unoccupied

He did not sleep, so much the better! He would work more

Hearty laughter which men affect to assist digestion

Heed that you lose not in dignity what you gain in revenge

Her husband had become quite bearable

Her kindness, which never sleeps

Hermits can not refrain from inquiring what men say of them

His habit of pleasing had prolonged his youth

His sleeplessness was not the insomnia of genius

History too was a work of art

History is written, not made.

Houses are vessels which take mere passengers

(Housemaid) is trained to respect my disorder

How sad these old memorics are in the autumn

How many things have not people been proud of

How much they desire to be loved who say they love no more

How small a space man occupies on the earth

How rich we find ourselves when we rummage in old drawers

Hubbub of questions which waited for no reply

Human weakness seeks association

Husband who loves you and eats off the same plate is better

Hypocritical grievances

I do not intend either to boast or abase myself

I came here for that express purpose

I do not accept the hypothesis of a world made for us

I don't call that fishing

I measure others by myself

I am not wandering through life, I am marching on

I would give two summers for a single autumn

I believed in the virtue of work, and look at me!

I neither love nor esteem sadness

I might forgive," said Andras; "but I could not forget

I believed it all; one is so happy to believe!

I am not in the habit of consulting the law

I have burned all the bridges behind me

I know not what lost home that I have failed to find

I can forget you only when I am with you

I do not desire your friendship

I can not love her, I can not love another

I can not be near you and separated from you at the same moment

I have known things which I know no more

I haven't a taste, I have tastes

I no longer love you

I boasted of being worse than I really was

I thought the best means of being loved were to deserve it

I don't pay myself with words

I have to pay for the happiness you give me

I feel in them (churches) the grandeur of nothingness

I love myself because you love me

I gave myself to him because he loved me

I wished to spoil our past

I make it a rule never to have any hope

Ideas they think superior to love—faith, habits, interests

If there is one! (a paradise)

If I do not give all I give nothing

If well-informed people are to be believe

If trouble awaits us, hope will steal us a happy hour or two

Ignorance into which the Greek clergy plunged the laity

Ignorant of what there is to wish for

Ignorant of everything, undesirous of learning anything

Imagine what it would be never to have been born

Immobility of time

Impatient at praise which was not destined for himself

Implacable self-interest which is the law of the world

Importance in this world are as easily swept away as the sand

In order to make money, the first thing is to have no need of it

In his future arrange laurels for a little crown for your own

In his eyes everything was decided by luck

In times like these we must see all and say all

In what do you believe?

In pitying me he forgot himself

In life it is only nonsense that is common-sense

In every age we laugh at the costume of our fathers

Incapable of conceiving that one might talk without an object

Inconstancy of heart is the special attribute of man

Indignation can solace grief and restore happiness

Indulgence of which they stand in need themselves

Inoffensive tree which never had harmed anybody

Insanity is, perhaps, simply the ideal realized

Intelligent persons have no remorse

Intemperance of her zeal and the acrimony of her bigotry

Intimate friend, whom he has known for about five minutes

Irritating laugh which is peculiar to Japan

Is it not enough to have lived?

Is he a dwarf or a giant

Is a man ever poor when he has two arms?

Is it by law only that you wish to keep me?

It is a pity that you must seek pastimes

It is not now what it used to be

It is silly to blush under certain circumstances

It is too true that virtue also has its blush

It was a relief when they rose from the table

It is an error to be in the right too soon

It was torture for her not to be able to rejoin him

It was all delightfully terrible!

It was too late: she did not wish to win

It (science) dreams, too; it supposes

It is a terrible step for a woman to take, from No to Yes

It is so good to know nothing, nothing, nothing

It is only those who own something who worry about the price

It does not mend matters to give way like that

It is the first crime that costs

Japanese habit of expressing myself with excessive politeness

Jealous without having the right to be jealous

Kissses and caresses are the effort of a delightful despair

Knew her danger, and, unlike most of them, she did not love it

Knew that life is not worth so much anxiety nor so much hope

Lady who requires urging, although she is dying to sing

Laughing in every wrinkle of his face

Leant—and when I did not lose my friends I lost my money

Learn to live without desire

Learned that one leaves college almost ignorant

Learned to love others by embracing their own children

Leisure must be had for light reading, and even more for love

Lends—I should say gives

Let us give to men irony and pity as witnesses and judges

Let them laugh that win!

Let ultra-modesty destroy poetry

Let the dead past bury its dead!

Life is made up of just such trifles

Life as a whole is too vast and too remote

Life goes on, and that is less gay than the stories

Life is not a great thing

Life is not so sweet for us to risk ourselves in it singlehanded

Life is a tempest

Like all timid persons, he took refuge in a moody silence

Little feathers fluttering for an opportunity to fly away

Little that we can do when we are powerful

Lofty ideal of woman and of love

Looking for a needle in a bundle of hay

Looks on an accomplished duty neither as a merit nor a grievance

Love in marriage is, as a rule, too much at his ease

Love is a fire whose heat dies out for want of fuel

Love was only a brief intoxication

Love and tranquillity seldom dwell at peace in the same heart

Love is a soft and terrible force, more powerful than beauty

Lovers never separate kindly

Made life give all it could yield

Magnificent air of those beggars of whom small towns are proud

Make himself a name: he becomes public property

Make a shroud of your virtue in which to bury your crimes

Make for themselves a horizon of the neighboring walls and roofs

Man who expects nothing of life except its ending

Man who suffers wishes to make her whom he loves suffer

Man, if he will it, need not grow old: the lion must

Man is but one of the links of an immense chain

Mania for fearing that she may be compromised

Material in you to make one of Cooper's redskins

Mediocre sensibility

Melancholy problem of the birth and death of love

Men of pleasure remain all their lives mediocre workers

Men are weak, and there are things which women must accomplish

Men admired her; the women sought some point to criticise

Men forget sooner

Men doubted everything: the young men denied everything

Mild, unpretentious men who let everybody run over them

Miserable beings who contribute to the grandeur of the past

Misfortunes never come single

Mobile and complaisant conscience had already forgiven himself

Moderation is the great social virtue

Money troubles are not mortal

Money is not a common thing between gentlemen like you and me

Monsieur, I know that I have lived too long

More disposed to discover evil than good

More stir than work

Music—so often dangerous to married happiness

My aunt is jealous of me because I am a man of ideas

My good fellow, you are quite worthless as a man of pleasure

My patronage has become her property

Natural longing, that we all have, to know the worst

Natural only when alone, and talk well only to themselves

Nature's cold indifference to our sufferings

Negroes, all but monkeys!

Neither so simple nor so easy as they at first appeared

Neither idealist nor realist

Nervous natures, as prompt to hope as to despair

Never interfered in what did not concern him

Never can make revolutions with gloves on

Never foolish to spend money. The folly lies in keeping it

Never is perfect happiness our lot

Never travel when the heart is troubled!

No answer to make to one who has no right to question me

No longer esteemed her highly enough to be jealous of her

No one has ever been able to find out what her thoughts were

No woman is unattainable, except when she loves another

No flies enter a closed mouth

No one is so unhappy as to have nothing to give

No writer had more dislike of mere pedantry

Nobody troubled himself about that originality

None but fools resisted the current

Not everything is known, but everything is said

Not only his last love, but his only love

Not more honest than necessary

Not desirous to teach goodness

Not an excuse, but an explanation of your conduct

Nothing is dishonorable which is useful

Nothing is so legitimate, so human, as to deceive pain

Nothing that provokes laughter more than a disappointed lover

Nothing ever astonishes me

Notion of her husband's having an opinion of his own

Now his grief was his wife, and lived with him

Obstacles are the salt of all our joys

Obstinacy of drunkenness

Of all the sisters of love, the most beautiful is pity

Offices will end by rendering great names vile

Often been compared to Eugene Sue, but his touch is lighter

Old women—at least thirty years old!

Once an excellent remedy, is a detestable regimen

One who first thought of pasting a canvas on a panel

One of those beings who die, as they have lived, children

One is never kind when one is in love

One half of his life belonged to the poor

One would think that the wind would put them out: the stars

One of those pious persons who always think evil

One of those trustful men who did not judge when they loved

One does not judge those whom one loves

One should never leave the one whom one loves

One may think of marrying, but one ought not to try to marry

One amuses one's self at the risk of dying

One doesn't offer apologies to a man in his wrath

Only a man, wavering and changeable

Only one thing infamous in love, and that is a falsehood

Opposing his orders with steady, irritating inertia

Ordinary, trivial, every-day objects

Ostensibly you sit at the feast without paying the cost

Others found delight in the most ordinary amusements

Our tempers are like an opera-glass

Paint from nature

Paris has become like a little country town in its gossip

Pass half the day in procuring two cakes, worth three sous

Patience, should he encounter a dull page here or there

People meeting to "have it out" usually say nothing at first

People whose principle was never to pay a doctor

Perfection does not exist

Pessimism of to-day sneering at his confidence of yesterday

Picturesquely ugly

Pitiful checker-board of life

Playing checkers, that mimic warfare of old men

Plead the lie to get at the truth

Pleasures of an independent code of morals

Police regulations known as religion

Poor France of Jeanne d'Arc and of Napoleon

Poverty brings wrinkles

Poverty, you see, is a famous schoolmistress

Power to work, that was never disturbed or weakened by anything

Power of necessity

Prayers swallowed like pills by invalids at a distance

Pride supplies some sufferers with necessary courage

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

Principles alone, without faith in some higher sanction

Prisoners of work

Progress can never be forced on without danger

Property of all who are strong enough to stand it

Pure caprice that I myself mistook for a flash of reason

Put herself on good terms with God, in case He should exist

Quarrel had been, so to speak, less sad than our reconciliation

Question is not to discover what will suit us

Rather do not give—make yourself sought after

Reading the Memoirs of Constant

Reason before the deed, and not after

Recesses of her mind which she preferred not to open

Reckon yourself happy if in your husband you find a lover

Recollection of past dangers to increase the present joy

Recommended a scrupulous observance of nature

Recourse to concessions is often as fatal to women as to kings

Redouble their boasting after each defeat

Regards his happiness as a proof of superiority

Relatives whom she did not know and who irritated her

Remedy infallible against the plague and against reserve

Repeated and explained what he had already said and explained

Reproaches are useless and cruel if the evil is done

Resorted to exaggeration in order to appear original

Respect him so that he may respect you

Richer than France herself, for I have no deficit in my budget

Romanticism still ferments beneath the varnish of Naturalism

Ruining myself, but we must all have our Carnival

Sacrifice his artistic leanings to popular caprice

Satisfy our wants, if we know how to set bounds to them

Scarcely a shade of gentle condescension

Scarcely was one scheme launched when another idea occurred

Sceptic regrets the faith he has lost the power to regain

Seeking for a change which can no longer be found

Seemed to enjoy themselves, or made believe they did

Seemed to him that men were grains in a coffee-mill

Seldom troubled himself to please any one he did not care for

Semel insanivimus omnes.' (every one has his madness)

Sensible man, who has observed much and speaks little

Sensitiveness and disposition to self-blame

Seven who are always the same: the first is called hope

She pretended to hope for the best

She said yes, so as not to say no

She is happy, since she likes to remember

She was of those who disdain no compliment

She pleased society by appearing to find pleasure in it

She would have liked the world to be in mourning

She could not bear contempt

Shelter himself in the arms of the weak and recover courage

Should be punished for not having known how to punish

Should like better to do an immoral thing than a cruel one

Silence, alas! is not the reproof of kings alone

Simple people who doubt neither themselves nor others

Since she was in love, she had lost prudence

Skilful actor, who apes all the emotions while feeling none

Slip forth from the common herd, my son, think for yourself

Small women ought not to grow stout

So much confidence at first, so much doubt at las

So well satisfied with his reply that he repeated it twice

So strongly does force impose upon men

Society people condemned to hypocrisy and falsehood

Sometimes we seem to enjoy unhappiness

Sometimes like to deck the future in the garments of the past

Sorrows shrink into insignificance as the horizon broadens

Speak to me of your love, she said, "not of your grief

St. Augustine

Succeeded in wearying him by her importunities and tenderness

Such artificial enjoyment, such idiotic laughter

Suffered, and yet took pleasure in it

Sufferer becomes, as it were, enamored of his own agony

Suffering is a human law; the world is an arena

Sufficed him to conceive the plan of a reparation

Sullen tempers are excited by the patience of their victims

Superior men sometimes lack cleverness

Superiority of the man who does nothing over the man who works

Superstition which forbids one to proclaim his happiness

Surprise goes for so much in what we admire

Suspicion that he is a feeble human creature after all!

Suspicions that are ever born anew

Sympathetic listening, never having herself anything to say

Take their levity for heroism

Taken the times as they are

Talk with me sometimes. You will not chatter trivialities

Tears for the future

Tediousness seems to ooze out through their bindings

Terrible words; I deserve them, but they will kill me

Terrible revenge she would take hereafter for her sufferings

That suffering which curses but does not pardon

That you can aid them in leading better lives?

That if we live the reason is that we hope

That sort of cold charity which is called altruism

That absurd and generous fury for ownership

The bandage love ties over the eyes of men

The future promises, it is the present that pays

The discouragement which the irreparable gives

The heart requires gradual changes

The future that is rent away

The most radical breviary of scepticism since Montaigne

The door of one's room opens on the infinite

The very smell of books is improving

The looks of the young are always full of the future

The recollection of that moment lasts for a lifetime

The worst husband is always better than none

The past is the only human reality—Everything that is, is past

The man in power gives up his peace

The happiness of the wise man costs but little

The history of good people is often monotonous or painful

The one whom you will love and who will love you will harm you

The women have enough religion for the men

The violent pleasure of losing

The poor must pay for all their enjoyments

The great leveller has swung a long scythe over France

The real support of a government is the Opposition

The politician never should be in advance of circumstances

The uncontested power which money brings

The strong walk alone because they need no one

The leaves fall! the leaves fall!

The guilty will not feel your blows, but the innocent

The forests have taught man liberty

The ease with which he is forgotten

The Hungarian was created on horseback

The most in favor will be the soonest abandoned by him

The usual remarks prompted by imbecility on such occasions

The night brings counsel

The sincere age when one thinks aloud

The groom isn't handsome, but the bride's as pretty as a picture

Their Christian charity did not extend so far as that

Their love requires a return

There are many grand and strong things which you do not feel

There is an intelligent man, who never questions his ideas

There are some men who never have had any childhood

There were too many discussions, and not enough action

There are mountains that we never climb but once

There are pious falsehoods which the Church excuses

There is always and everywhere a duty to fulfil

There is nothing good except to ignore and to forget

There are some blunders that are lucky; but you can't tell

There will be no more belief in Christ than in Jupiter

There are two different men in you

These are things that one admits only to himself

These ideas may serve as opium to produce a calm

They tremble while they threaten

They loved not as you love, eh?

They had only one aim, one passion—to enjoy themselves

They are the coffin saying: 'I am the cradle'

They have believed me incapable because I was kind

Thinking it better not to lie on minor points

This popular favor is a cup one must drink

This was the Dauphin, afterward Louis XIV

This unending warfare we call love

Those whom they most amuse are those who are best worth amusing

Those who have outlived their illusions

Ticking of which (our arteries) can be heard only at night

Ties that unite children to parents are unloosed

Ties that become duties where we only sought pleasures

Ties which unite parents to children are broken

Timidity of a night-bird that is made to fly in the day

Tired smile of those who have not long to live

To make a will is to put one foot into the grave

To learn to obey is the only way of learning to command

To love is a great deal—To know how to love is everything

To be able to smoke a cigar without being sick

To be beautiful, must a woman have that thin form

To be your own guide doubles your pleasure

Toast and white wine (for breakfast)

Too prudent to risk or gain much

Topics that occupy people who meet for the first time

Trees, dwarfed by a Japanese process

Trees are like men; there are some that have no luck

True talent paints life rather than the living

Truth is easily found. I shall read all the newspapers

Truth, I here venture to distinguish from that of the True

Trying to conceal by a smile (a blush)

Trying to make Therese admire what she did not know

Two persons who desired neither to remember nor to forget

Two thirds of human existence are wasted in hesitation

Umbrellas, like black turtles under the watery skies

Unable to speak, for each word would have been a sob

Unfortunate creature who is the plaything of life

Unhappy man!" she cried, "you will never know how to love

Universal suffrage, with its accustomed intelligence

Unqualified for happiness

Unwilling to leave him to the repose he needed

Upon my word, there are no ugly ones (women)

Urbain Grandier

Vague hope came over him that all would come right

Very young, and was in love with love

Vexed, act in direct contradiction to their own wishes

Virtue made friends, but she did not take pupils

Voice of the heart which alone has power to reach the heart

Void in her heart, a place made ready for disasters to come

Walked at the rapid pace characteristic of monomaniacs

Was I not warned enough of the sadness of everything?

Waste all that upon a thing that nobody will ever look at

We are too happy; we are robbing life

We had taken the dream of a day for eternal happiness

We weep, we do not complain

We are so unhappy that our souls are weak against joy

We have had a mass celebrated, and it cost us a large sum

We are not bound to live, while we are bound to do our duty

We do not understand that others may live on their own account

We are simple to this degree, that we do not think we are

Were certain against all reason

What is a man who remains useless

What will be the use of having tormented ourselves in this world

What use is the memory of facts, if not to serve as an example

What you take for love is nothing more than desire

What matters it how much we suffer

What human word will ever express thy slightest caress

What have you done with the days God granted you

What a small dwelling joy can live

When passion sways man, reason follows him weeping and warning

When one speaks of the devil he appears

When he sings, it is because he has something to sing about

When the inattentive spirits are not listening

When time has softened your grief

Whether they know or do not know, they talk

Whether in this world one must be a fanatic or nothing

Which I should find amusing in any one else,—any one I loved

Who has told you that tears can wash away the stains of guilt

Whole world of politics and religion rushed to extremes

Why should I read the newspapers?

Why mankind has chosen to call marriage a man-trap

Will not admit that conscience is the proper guide of our action

Willingly seek a new sorrow

Wine suffuses the face as if to prevent shame appearing there

Wiped his nose behind his hat, like a well-bred orator

Wiping his forehead ostentatiously

With the habit of thinking, had not lost the habit of laughing

Without a care or a cross, he grew weary like a prisoner

Woman is more bitter than death, and her arms are like chains

Women who are thirty-five should never weep

Women: they are more bitter than death

Women do not always confess it, but it is always their fault

Word "sacrifice," so vague on careless lips

Words are nothing; it is the tone in which they are uttered

Would not be astonished at anything

Would have liked him to be blind only so far as he was concerned

Yes, we are in the way here

Yield to their customs, and not pooh-pooh their amusements

You are in a conquered country, which is still more dangerous

You play with happiness as a child plays with a rattle

You love me, therefore you do not know me

You have considerable patience for a lover

You are talking too much about it to be sincere

You can not make an omelette without first breaking the eggs

You must be pleased with yourself—that is more essential

You are playing 'who loses wins!'

You suffer? Is fate so just as that

You ask Life for certainties, as if she had any to give you

You must always first get the tobacco to burn evenly

You a law student, while our farmers are in want of hands

You believe in what is said here below and not in what is done

You turn the leaves of dead books

You must take me with my own soul!

You may know the game by the lair

Your great weapon is silence

Youth is to judge of the world from first impressions

*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WIDGER'S QUOTATIONS FROM PROJECT GUTENBERG EDITION OF FRENCH IMMORTALS SERIES ***

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Table of Contents

WIDGER'S QUOTATIONS

EDITOR'S NOTE

THE ENTIRE PROJECT GUTENBERG EDITION OF THE FRENCH IMMORTALS

GENERAL INTRODUCTION TO THE SERIES BY GASTON BOISSIER, SECRETAIRE PERPETUEL DE L'ACADEMIE FRANCAISE.

THE IMMORTALS OF THE FRENCH ACADEMY

SERGE PANINE, BY GEORGES OHNET

THE RED LILY, BY ANATOLE FRANCE

MADAME, MONSIEUR. AND BEBE BY GUSTAVE DROZ

PRINCE ZILAH, BY JULES CLARETIE

ZEBILINE BY PHILLIPE DE MASA

A WOODLAND QUEEN, BY ANDRE THEURIET

CHILD OF A CENTURY, ALFRED DE MUSSET

MONSIEUR DE CAMORS BY OCTAVE FEUILLET

CINQ MARS, BY ALFRED DE VIGNY

L'ABBE CONSTANTIN BY LUDOVIC HALEVY

COSMOPOLIS BY PAUL BOURGET

JACQUELINE BY TH. BENTZON (MME. BLANC)

THE INK-STAIN BY RENE BAZIN

FROMONT AND RISLER BY ALPHONSE DAUDET

GERFAUT, BY CHARLES DE BERNARD

CONSCIENCE BY HECTOR MALOT

MADAME CHRYSANTHEME BY PIERRE LOTI

AN "ATTIC PHILOSOPHER" BY E. SOUVESTRE

ENTIRE PG EDITION OF THE FRENCH IMMORTALS

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE