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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 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 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 3921

Does one ever possess what one loves? Each was moved with self-pity Everybody knows about that 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 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 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 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 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 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 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 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 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 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 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 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 3929

ZEBILINE BY PHILLIPE DE MASA

ZEBILINE BY PHILLIPE DE MASA, V1 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 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 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 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 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 Vague hope came over him that all would come right

A WOODLAND QUEEN, BY ANDRE THEURIET, V2 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 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 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 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 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 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 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 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 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 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 3943

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