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 compromisedMaterial in you to make one of Cooper's redskinsRecourse to concessions is often as fatal to women as to kingsThose whom they most amuse are those who are best worth amusingTrying to conceal by a smile (a blush)When one speaks of the devil he appearsWiped 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 YesLady who requires urging, although she is dying to singLet them laugh that win!Let ultra-modesty destroy poetryMisfortunes never come singleNo woman is unattainable, except when she loves anotherThese are things that one admits only to himselfTopics that occupy people who meet for the first timeYou are playing 'who loses wins!'
GERFAUT BY CHARLES DE BERNARD, V3[IM#70][im70b10.txt]3983
Antipathy for her husband bordering upon aversionAttractions that difficulties give to pleasureConsented to become a wife so as not to remain a maidenDespotic tone which a woman assumes when sure of her empireLove is a fire whose heat dies out for want of fuelRegards his happiness as a proof of superiorityShe said yes, so as not to say no
GERFAUT BY CHARLES DE BERNARD, V4[IM#71][im71b10.txt]3984
Attractive abyss of drunkennessObstinacy of drunkenness
THE ENTIRE GERFAUT BY CHARLES DE BERNARD[IM#72][im72b10.txt]3985
Antipathy for her husband bordering upon aversionAttractions that difficulties give to pleasureAttractive abyss of drunkennessConsented to become a wife so as not to remain a maidenDespotic tone which a woman assumes when sure of her empireEvident 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 YesLady who requires urging, although she is dying to singLet them laugh that win!Let ultra-modesty destroy poetryLove is a fire whose heat dies out for want of fuelMania for fearing that she may be compromisedMaterial in you to make one of Cooper's redskinsMisfortunes never come singleNo woman is unattainable, except when she loves anotherObstinacy of drunkennessRecourse to concessions is often as fatal to women as to kingsRegards his happiness as a proof of superiorityShe said yes, so as not to say noThese are things that one admits only to himselfThose whom they most amuse are those who are best worth amusingTopics that occupy people who meet for the first timeTrying to conceal by a smile (a blush)When one speaks of the devil he appearsWiped his nose behind his hat, like a well-bred oratorYou are playing 'who loses wins!'
CONSCIENCE BY HECTOR MALOT, V1[IM#73][im73b10.txt]3986
As free from prejudices as one may be, one always retains a fewAs ignorant as a schoolmasterConfidence in one's self is strength, but it is also weaknessConscience is a bad weighing-machineConscience is only an affair of environment and of educationFind it more easy to make myself feared than lovedForce, which is the last word of the philosophy of lifeI believed in the virtue of work, and look at me!Intelligent persons have no remorseIt is only those who own something who worry about the priceLeant—and when I did not lose my friends I lost my moneyLeisure must be had for light reading, and even more for lovePeople whose principle was never to pay a doctorPower to work, that was never disturbed or weakened by anythingReason before the deed, and not afterWill 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 crimeIn his eyes everything was decided by luckLooking for a needle in a bundle of hayNeither 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 costsRepeated and explained what he had already said and explainedYou 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 moreOne does not judge those whom one lovesShe could not bear contemptThe strong walk alone because they need no oneWe are so unhappy that our souls are weak against joyWe weep, we do not complain
THE ENTIRE CONSCIENCE BY HECTOR MALOT[IM#77][im77b10.txt]3990
As ignorant as a schoolmasterAs free from prejudices as one may be, one always retains a fewConfidence in one's self is strength, but it is also weaknessConscience is a bad weighing-machineConscience is only an affair of environment and of educationFind it more easy to make myself feared than lovedFor the rest of his life he would be the prisoner of his crimeForce, which is the last word of the philosophy of lifeHe did not sleep, so much the better! He would work moreI believed in the virtue of work, and look at me!In his eyes everything was decided by luckIntelligent persons have no remorseIt is the first crime that costsIt is only those who own something who worry about the priceLeant—and when I did not lose my friends I lost my moneyLeisure must be had for light reading, and even more for loveLooking for a needle in a bundle of hayNeither so simple nor so easy as they at first appearedOne does not judge those whom one lovesPeople whose principle was never to pay a doctorPower to work, that was never disturbed or weakened by anythingReason before the deed, and not afterRepeated and explained what he had already said and explainedShe could not bear contemptThe strong walk alone because they need no oneWe are so unhappy that our souls are weak against joyWe weep, we do not complainWill not admit that conscience is the proper guide of our actionYou love me, therefore you do not know me
MADAME CHRYSANTHEME BY PIERRE LOTI, V1[IM#78][im78b10.txt]3991
Efforts to arrange matters we succeed often only in disarrangingIrritating laugh which is peculiar to JapanOrdinary, trivial, every-day objectsSeeking 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 thingsFound nothing that answered to my indefinable expectationsHabit turns into a makeshift of attachmentI know not what lost home that I have failed to findWhen the inattentive spirits are not listening
MADAME CHRYSANTHEME BY PIERRE LOTI, V3[IM#80][im80b10.txt]3993
Dull hours spent in idle and diffuse conversationPrayers swallowed like pills by invalids at a distanceTrees, dwarfed by a Japanese processWhich 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 politenessContemptuous 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 thingsContemptuous pity, both for my suspicions and the cause of themDull hours spent in idle and diffuse conversationEfforts to arrange matters we succeed often only in disarrangingFound nothing that answered to my indefinable expectationsHabit turns into a makeshift of attachmentI know not what lost home that I have failed to findIrritating laugh which is peculiar to JapanJapanese habit of expressing myself with excessive politenessOrdinary, trivial, every-day objectsPrayers swallowed like pills by invalids at a distanceSeeking for a change which can no longer be foundTrees, dwarfed by a Japanese processWhen the inattentive spirits are not listeningWhich I should find amusing in any one else,—any one I loved
AN "ATTIC PHILOSOPHER" BY E. SOUVESTRE, V1[IM#83][im83b10.txt]3996
Brought them up to povertyCarn-ival means, literally, "farewell to flesh!"Coffee is the grand work of a bachelor's housekeepingDefeat and victory only displace each other by turnsDid not think the world was so greatDo they understand what makes them so gay?Each of us regards himself as the mirror of the communityEase with which the poor forget their wretchednessEvery one keeps his holidays in his own wayFavorite and conclusive answer of his class—"I know"Fear of losing a moment from businessFinishes his sin thoroughly before he begins to repentHer kindness, which never sleepsHubbub of questions which waited for no replyModeration is the great social virtueNo one is so unhappy as to have nothing to giveOur tempers are like an opera-glassPoverty, you see, is a famous schoolmistressPrisoners of workQuestion is not to discover what will suit usRuining myself, but we must all have our CarnivalTwo thirds of human existence are wasted in hesitationWhat a small dwelling joy can live
AN "ATTIC" PHILOSOPHER BY E. SOUVESTRE, V2[IM#84][im84b10.txt]3997
Always to mistake feeling for evidenceFame and power are gifts that are dearly boughtFortune sells what we believe she givesMake himself a name: he becomes public propertyMy patronage has become her propertyNot desirous to teach goodnessPower of necessityProgress can never be forced on without dangerSo much confidence at first, so much doubt at lastThe man in power gives up his peaceVirtue made friends, but she did not take pupilsWe 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 lawsAttach a sense of remorse to each of my pleasuresBut above these ruins rises a calm and happy faceContemptuous pride of knowledgeDeath, that faithful friend of the wretchedHouses are vessels which take mere passengersI make it a rule never to have any hopeIgnorant of what there is to wish forLooks on an accomplished duty neither as a merit nor a grievanceMore stir than workNothing is dishonorable which is usefulRicher than France herself, for I have no deficit in my budgetSatisfy our wants, if we know how to set bounds to themSensible man, who has observed much and speaks littleSullen tempers are excited by the patience of their victimsThe happiness of the wise man costs but littleWe do not understand that others may live on their own accountWhat have you done with the days God granted youYou may know the game by the lair
ENTIRE AN "ATTIC" PHILOSOPHER BY SOUVESTRE[IM#86][im86b10.txt]3999
Always to mistake feeling for evidenceAmbroise Pare: 'I tend him, God cures him!'Are we then bound to others only by the enforcement of lawsAttach a sense of remorse to each of my pleasuresBrought them up to povertyBut above these ruins rises a calm and happy faceCarn-ival means, literally, "farewell to flesh!"Coffee is the grand work of a bachelor's housekeepingContemptuous pride of knowledgeDeath, that faithful friend of the wretchedDefeat and victory only displace each other by turnsDid not think the world was so greatDo they understand what makes them so gay?Each of us regards himself as the mirror of the communityEase with which the poor forget their wretchednessEvery one keeps his holidays in his own wayFame and power are gifts that are dearly boughtFavorite and conclusive answer of his class—"I know"Fear of losing a moment from businessFinishes his sin thoroughly before he begins to repentFortune sells what we believe she givesHer kindness, which never sleepsHouses are vessels which take mere passengersHubbub of questions which waited for no replyI make it a rule never to have any hopeIgnorant of what there is to wish forLooks on an accomplished duty neither as a merit nor a grievanceMake himself a name: he becomes public propertyModeration is the great social virtueMore stir than workMy patronage has become her propertyNo one is so unhappy as to have nothing to giveNot desirous to teach goodnessNothing is dishonorable which is usefulOur tempers are like an opera-glassPoverty, you see, is a famous schoolmistressPower of necessityPrisoners of workProgress can never be forced on without dangerQuestion is not to discover what will suit usRicher than France herself, for I have no deficit in my budgetRuining myself, but we must all have our CarnivalSatisfy our wants, if we know how to set bounds to themSensible man, who has observed much and speaks littleSo much confidence at first, so much doubt at lasSullen tempers are excited by the patience of their victimsThe happiness of the wise man costs but littleThe man in power gives up his peaceTwo thirds of human existence are wasted in hesitationVirtue made friends, but she did not take pupilsWe do not understand that others may live on their own accountWe are not bound to live, while we are bound to do our dutyWhat have you done with the days God granted youWhat a small dwelling joy can liveYou may know the game by the lair
ENTIRE PG EDITION OF THE FRENCH IMMORTALS[IM#87][imewkxxx.xxx]4000
A uniform is the only garb which can hide poverty honorablyA man may forgive, but he never forgetsA mother's geese are always swansA queen's country is where her throne isA ripe husband, ready to fall from the treeA terrible danger lurks in the knowledge of what is possibleA cat is a very fine animal. It is a drawing-room tigerA familiarity which, had he known it, was not flatteringA defensive attitude is never agreeable to a manA man weeps with difficulty before a womanA hero must be human. Napoleon was humanA woman is frank when she does not lie uselesslyA man's life belongs to his duty, and not to his happinessA man never should kneel unless sure of rising a conquerorAbundant details which he sometimes volunteeredAccustomed to call its disguise virtueAccustomed to hide what I thinkAdieu, my son, I love you and I dieAdopted fact is always better composed than the real oneAdvantage that a calm temper gives one over menAffectation of indifferenceAffection is catchingAh! the natural perversity of inanimate thingsAll that a name is to a street—its honor, its spouseAll that was illogical in our social codeAll that he said, I had already thoughtAll that is not life, it is the noise of lifeAll philosophy is akin to atheismAll babies are round, yielding, weak, timid, and softAll defeats have their genesesAlways to mistake feeling for evidenceAlways smiling condescendinglyAlways the first word which is the most difficult to sayAmbiguity has no place, nor has compromiseAmbition is the saddest of all hopesAmbroise Pare: 'I tend him, God cures him!'Amusements they offered were either wearisome or repugnantAn hour of rest between two ordeals, a smile between two sobsAncient pillars of stone, embrowned and gnawed by timeAnd I shall say 'damn it,' for I shall then be grown upAnd they are shoulders which ought to be seenAnd when love is sure of itself and knows responseAnonymous, that velvet mask of scandal-mongersAnswer "No," but with a little kiss which means "Yes"Antagonism to plutocracy and hatred of aristocratsAnti-Semitism is making fearful progress everywhereAntipathy for her husband bordering upon aversionAre we then bound to others only by the enforcement of lawsArt is the chosen truthArtificialities of style of that periodArtistic Truth, more lofty than the TrueAs ignorant as a schoolmasterAs free from prejudices as one may be, one always retains a fewAs Homer says, "smiling under tears"As we grow older we lay aside harsh judgments and sharp wordsAs regards love, intention and deed are the sameAssume with others the mien they wore toward himAt every step the reality splashes you with mudAttach a sense of remorse to each of my pleasuresAttractions that difficulties give to pleasureAttractive abyss of drunkennessBad to fear the opinion of people one despisesBathers, who exhibited themselves in all degrees of uglinessBecause they moved, they thought they were progressingBecause you weep, you fondly imagine yourself innocentBecome corrupt, and you will cease to sufferBegan to forget my own sorrow in my sympathy for herBelieving that it is for virtue's sake alone such men love themBelieving themselves irresistibleBeware of disgust, it is an incurable evilBlow which annihilates our supreme illusionBreak in his memory, like a book with several leaves torn outBrilliancy of a fortune too newBrought them up to povertyBullets are not necessarily on the side of the rightBut above these ruins rises a calm and happy faceBut she thinks she is affording you pleasureBut 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 moneyCame not in single spies, but in battalionsCamors refused, hesitated, made objections, and consentedCan any one prevent a gossipCarn-ival means, literally, "farewell to flesh!Chain so light yesterday, so heavy to-dayCharm of that one day's rest and its solemnityClashing knives and forks mark timeClumsily, blew his nose, to the great relief of his two armsCoffee is the grand work of a bachelor's housekeepingCold silence, that negative forceConditions of blindness so voluntary that they become complicityConfidence in one's self is strength, but it is also weaknessConfounding progress with discord, liberty with licenseConscience is a bad weighing-machineConscience is only an affair of environment and of educationConsented to become a wife so as not to remain a maidenConsoled himself with one of the pious commonplacesContempt for men is the beginning of wisdomContemptuous pride of knowledgeContemptuous pity, both for my suspicions and the cause of themContrive to use proud disdain as a shieldConvent of Saint Joseph, four shoes under the bed!Cowardly in trouble as he had been insolent in prosperityCried out, with the blunt candor of his ageCurious to know her face of that dayDangers of liberty outweighed its benefitsDare now to be silent when I have told you these thingsDaylight is detrimental to themDeath is more to be desired than a living distaste for lifeDeath is not that last sleepDeath, that faithful friend of the wretchedDeeming every sort of occupation beneath himDefeat and victory only displace each other by turnsDemanded of him imperatively—the time of dayDeny the spirit of self-sacrificeDespair of a man sick of life, or the whim of a spoiled childDespotic tone which a woman assumes when sure of her empireDespotism natural to puissant personalitiesDetermined to cultivate ability rather than scrupulousnessDid not think the world was so greatDifference which I find between Truth in art and the True in facDisappointed her to escape the danger she had fearedDisenchantment which follows possessionDistrust first impulseDo 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 seeDo not seek too muchDo not get angry. Rarely laugh, and never weepDoes not wish one to treat it with either timidity or brutalityDoes one ever forget?Does one ever possess what one loves?Doubt, the greatest misery of loveDreaded the monotonous regularity of conjugal lifeDreams, instead of livingDreams of wealth and the disasters that immediately followedDull hours spent in idle and diffuse conversationDuty, simply accepted and simply dischargedEach was moved with self-pityEach had regained freedom, but he did not like to be aloneEach one knows what the other is about to sayEach of us regards himself as the mirror of the communityEase with which the poor forget their wretchednessEfforts to arrange matters we succeed often only in disarrangingEgotists and cowards always have a reason for everythingEgyptian tobacco, mixed with opium and saltpetreEmotion when one does not share itEnough to be nobody's unless I belong to himEternally condemned to kill each other in order to liveEven those who do not love her desire to know herEvery man is his own master in his choice of liaisonsEvery one keeps his holidays in his own wayEvery one is the best judge of his own affairsEvery road leads to Rome—and one as surely as anotherEvery cause that is in antagonism with its age commits suicideEverybody knows about thatEverywhere was feverish excitement, dissipation, and nullityEvident that the man was above his costume; a rare thing!Exaggerated dramatic pantomimeFaces taken by surprise allow their real thoughts to be seenFame and power are gifts that are dearly boughtFavorite and conclusive answer of his class—"I know"Fawning duplicityFear of losing a moment from businessFelix culpaFind it more easy to make myself feared than lovedFinishes his sin thoroughly before he begins to repentFirst impression is based upon a number of triflesFlayed and roasted alive by the criticsFollow their thoughts instead of heeding objectsFool (there is no cure for that infirmity)Fool who destroys his own happinessFor the rest of his life he would be the prisoner of his crimeForce itself, that mistress of the worldForce, which is the last word of the philosophy of lifeForeigners are more Parisian than the Parisians themselvesForget a dream and accept a realityFortunate enough to keep those one lovesFortune sells what we believe she givesFound nothing that answered to my indefinable expectationsFred's verses were not good, but they were full of dejectionFrenchman has only one real luxury—his revolutionsFriendship exists only in independence and a kind of equalityFringe which makes an unlovely border to the cityFuneral processions are no longer permittedGalileo struck the earth, crying: "Nevertheless it moves!"Gave value to her affability by not squandering itGod forgive the timid and the prattler!God may have sent him to purgatory just for form's sakeGod—or no principles!Good and bad days succeeded each other almost regularlyGood form consists, above all things, in keeping silentGreat interval between a dream and its executionGreat sorrows neither accuse nor blaspheme—they listenGreat difference between dearly and very muchGrief itself was for her but a means of seducingHabit turns into a makeshift of attachmentHad not been spoiled by Fortune's giftsHad not told all—one never does tell allHang out the bush, but keep no tavernHappiness of being pursuedHappiness exists only by snatches and lasts only a momentHappy men don't need companyHappy is he who does not outlive his youthHard that one can not live one's life over twiceHard workers are pitiful loversHas as much sense as the handle of a basketHatred of everything which is superior to myselfHave never known in the morning what I would do in the eveningHave not that pleasure, it is useless to incur the penaltiesHe Would Have Been Forty NowHe always loved to pass for being overwhelmed with workHe almost regretted herHe fixed the time mentally when he would speakHe does not know the miseries of ambition and vanityHe knew now the divine malady of loveHe lives only in the bodyHe did not blush to be a man, and he spoke to men with forceHe was very unhappy at being misunderstoodHe lost his time, his money, his hair, his illusionsHe is charming, for one always feels in danger near himHe does not bear ill-will to those whom he persecutesHe could not imagine that often words are the same as actionsHe studied until the last momentHe who is loved by a beautiful woman is sheltered from every blowHe is not intelligent enough to doubtHe led the brilliant and miserable existence of the unoccupiedHe did not sleep, so much the better! He would work moreHearty laughter which men affect to assist digestionHeed that you lose not in dignity what you gain in revengeHer husband had become quite bearableHer kindness, which never sleepsHermits can not refrain from inquiring what men say of themHis habit of pleasing had prolonged his youthHis sleeplessness was not the insomnia of geniusHistory too was a work of artHistory is written, not made.Houses are vessels which take mere passengers(Housemaid) is trained to respect my disorderHow sad these old memorics are in the autumnHow many things have not people been proud ofHow much they desire to be loved who say they love no moreHow small a space man occupies on the earthHow rich we find ourselves when we rummage in old drawersHubbub of questions which waited for no replyHuman weakness seeks associationHusband who loves you and eats off the same plate is betterHypocritical grievancesI do not intend either to boast or abase myselfI came here for that express purposeI do not accept the hypothesis of a world made for usI don't call that fishingI measure others by myselfI am not wandering through life, I am marching onI would give two summers for a single autumnI believed in the virtue of work, and look at me!I neither love nor esteem sadnessI might forgive," said Andras; "but I could not forgetI believed it all; one is so happy to believe!I am not in the habit of consulting the lawI have burned all the bridges behind meI know not what lost home that I have failed to findI can forget you only when I am with youI do not desire your friendshipI can not love her, I can not love anotherI can not be near you and separated from you at the same momentI have known things which I know no moreI haven't a taste, I have tastesI no longer love youI boasted of being worse than I really wasI thought the best means of being loved were to deserve itI don't pay myself with wordsI have to pay for the happiness you give meI feel in them (churches) the grandeur of nothingnessI love myself because you love meI gave myself to him because he loved meI wished to spoil our pastI make it a rule never to have any hopeIdeas they think superior to love—faith, habits, interestsIf there is one! (a paradise)If I do not give all I give nothingIf well-informed people are to be believeIf trouble awaits us, hope will steal us a happy hour or twoIgnorance into which the Greek clergy plunged the laityIgnorant of what there is to wish forIgnorant of everything, undesirous of learning anythingImagine what it would be never to have been bornImmobility of timeImpatient at praise which was not destined for himselfImplacable self-interest which is the law of the worldImportance in this world are as easily swept away as the sandIn order to make money, the first thing is to have no need of itIn his future arrange laurels for a little crown for your ownIn his eyes everything was decided by luckIn times like these we must see all and say allIn what do you believe?In pitying me he forgot himselfIn life it is only nonsense that is common-senseIn every age we laugh at the costume of our fathersIncapable of conceiving that one might talk without an objectInconstancy of heart is the special attribute of manIndignation can solace grief and restore happinessIndulgence of which they stand in need themselvesInoffensive tree which never had harmed anybodyInsanity is, perhaps, simply the ideal realizedIntelligent persons have no remorseIntemperance of her zeal and the acrimony of her bigotryIntimate friend, whom he has known for about five minutesIrritating laugh which is peculiar to JapanIs it not enough to have lived?Is he a dwarf or a giantIs 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 pastimesIt is not now what it used to beIt is silly to blush under certain circumstancesIt is too true that virtue also has its blushIt was a relief when they rose from the tableIt is an error to be in the right too soonIt was torture for her not to be able to rejoin himIt was all delightfully terrible!It was too late: she did not wish to winIt (science) dreams, too; it supposesIt is a terrible step for a woman to take, from No to YesIt is so good to know nothing, nothing, nothingIt is only those who own something who worry about the priceIt does not mend matters to give way like thatIt is the first crime that costsJapanese habit of expressing myself with excessive politenessJealous without having the right to be jealousKissses and caresses are the effort of a delightful despairKnew her danger, and, unlike most of them, she did not love itKnew that life is not worth so much anxiety nor so much hopeLady who requires urging, although she is dying to singLaughing in every wrinkle of his faceLeant—and when I did not lose my friends I lost my moneyLearn to live without desireLearned that one leaves college almost ignorantLearned to love others by embracing their own childrenLeisure must be had for light reading, and even more for loveLends—I should say givesLet us give to men irony and pity as witnesses and judgesLet them laugh that win!Let ultra-modesty destroy poetryLet the dead past bury its dead!Life is made up of just such triflesLife as a whole is too vast and too remoteLife goes on, and that is less gay than the storiesLife is not a great thingLife is not so sweet for us to risk ourselves in it singlehandedLife is a tempestLike all timid persons, he took refuge in a moody silenceLittle feathers fluttering for an opportunity to fly awayLittle that we can do when we are powerfulLofty ideal of woman and of loveLooking for a needle in a bundle of hayLooks on an accomplished duty neither as a merit nor a grievanceLove in marriage is, as a rule, too much at his easeLove is a fire whose heat dies out for want of fuelLove was only a brief intoxicationLove and tranquillity seldom dwell at peace in the same heartLove is a soft and terrible force, more powerful than beautyLovers never separate kindlyMade life give all it could yieldMagnificent air of those beggars of whom small towns are proudMake himself a name: he becomes public propertyMake a shroud of your virtue in which to bury your crimesMake for themselves a horizon of the neighboring walls and roofsMan who expects nothing of life except its endingMan who suffers wishes to make her whom he loves sufferMan, if he will it, need not grow old: the lion mustMan is but one of the links of an immense chainMania for fearing that she may be compromisedMaterial in you to make one of Cooper's redskinsMediocre sensibilityMelancholy problem of the birth and death of loveMen of pleasure remain all their lives mediocre workersMen are weak, and there are things which women must accomplishMen admired her; the women sought some point to criticiseMen forget soonerMen doubted everything: the young men denied everythingMild, unpretentious men who let everybody run over themMiserable beings who contribute to the grandeur of the pastMisfortunes never come singleMobile and complaisant conscience had already forgiven himselfModeration is the great social virtueMoney troubles are not mortalMoney is not a common thing between gentlemen like you and meMonsieur, I know that I have lived too longMore disposed to discover evil than goodMore stir than workMusic—so often dangerous to married happinessMy aunt is jealous of me because I am a man of ideasMy good fellow, you are quite worthless as a man of pleasureMy patronage has become her propertyNatural longing, that we all have, to know the worstNatural only when alone, and talk well only to themselvesNature's cold indifference to our sufferingsNegroes, all but monkeys!Neither so simple nor so easy as they at first appearedNeither idealist nor realistNervous natures, as prompt to hope as to despairNever interfered in what did not concern himNever can make revolutions with gloves onNever foolish to spend money. The folly lies in keeping itNever is perfect happiness our lotNever travel when the heart is troubled!No answer to make to one who has no right to question meNo longer esteemed her highly enough to be jealous of herNo one has ever been able to find out what her thoughts wereNo woman is unattainable, except when she loves anotherNo flies enter a closed mouthNo one is so unhappy as to have nothing to giveNo writer had more dislike of mere pedantryNobody troubled himself about that originalityNone but fools resisted the currentNot everything is known, but everything is saidNot only his last love, but his only loveNot more honest than necessaryNot desirous to teach goodnessNot an excuse, but an explanation of your conductNothing is dishonorable which is usefulNothing is so legitimate, so human, as to deceive painNothing that provokes laughter more than a disappointed loverNothing ever astonishes meNotion of her husband's having an opinion of his ownNow his grief was his wife, and lived with himObstacles are the salt of all our joysObstinacy of drunkennessOf all the sisters of love, the most beautiful is pityOffices will end by rendering great names vileOften been compared to Eugene Sue, but his touch is lighterOld women—at least thirty years old!Once an excellent remedy, is a detestable regimenOne who first thought of pasting a canvas on a panelOne of those beings who die, as they have lived, childrenOne is never kind when one is in loveOne half of his life belonged to the poorOne would think that the wind would put them out: the starsOne of those pious persons who always think evilOne of those trustful men who did not judge when they lovedOne does not judge those whom one lovesOne should never leave the one whom one lovesOne may think of marrying, but one ought not to try to marryOne amuses one's self at the risk of dyingOne doesn't offer apologies to a man in his wrathOnly a man, wavering and changeableOnly one thing infamous in love, and that is a falsehoodOpposing his orders with steady, irritating inertiaOrdinary, trivial, every-day objectsOstensibly you sit at the feast without paying the costOthers found delight in the most ordinary amusementsOur tempers are like an opera-glassPaint from natureParis has become like a little country town in its gossipPass half the day in procuring two cakes, worth three sousPatience, should he encounter a dull page here or therePeople meeting to "have it out" usually say nothing at firstPeople whose principle was never to pay a doctorPerfection does not existPessimism of to-day sneering at his confidence of yesterdayPicturesquely uglyPitiful checker-board of lifePlaying checkers, that mimic warfare of old menPlead the lie to get at the truthPleasures of an independent code of moralsPolice regulations known as religionPoor France of Jeanne d'Arc and of NapoleonPoverty brings wrinklesPoverty, you see, is a famous schoolmistressPower to work, that was never disturbed or weakened by anythingPower of necessityPrayers swallowed like pills by invalids at a distancePride supplies some sufferers with necessary couragePrinces ought never to be struck, except on the headPrincesses ceded like a town, and must not even weepPrinciple that art implied selectionPrinciples alone, without faith in some higher sanctionPrisoners of workProgress can never be forced on without dangerProperty of all who are strong enough to stand itPure caprice that I myself mistook for a flash of reasonPut herself on good terms with God, in case He should existQuarrel had been, so to speak, less sad than our reconciliationQuestion is not to discover what will suit usRather do not give—make yourself sought afterReading the Memoirs of ConstantReason before the deed, and not afterRecesses of her mind which she preferred not to openReckon yourself happy if in your husband you find a loverRecollection of past dangers to increase the present joyRecommended a scrupulous observance of natureRecourse to concessions is often as fatal to women as to kingsRedouble their boasting after each defeatRegards his happiness as a proof of superiorityRelatives whom she did not know and who irritated herRemedy infallible against the plague and against reserveRepeated and explained what he had already said and explainedReproaches are useless and cruel if the evil is doneResorted to exaggeration in order to appear originalRespect him so that he may respect youRicher than France herself, for I have no deficit in my budgetRomanticism still ferments beneath the varnish of NaturalismRuining myself, but we must all have our CarnivalSacrifice his artistic leanings to popular capriceSatisfy our wants, if we know how to set bounds to themScarcely a shade of gentle condescensionScarcely was one scheme launched when another idea occurredSceptic regrets the faith he has lost the power to regainSeeking for a change which can no longer be foundSeemed to enjoy themselves, or made believe they didSeemed to him that men were grains in a coffee-millSeldom troubled himself to please any one he did not care forSemel insanivimus omnes.' (every one has his madness)Sensible man, who has observed much and speaks littleSensitiveness and disposition to self-blameSeven who are always the same: the first is called hopeShe pretended to hope for the bestShe said yes, so as not to say noShe is happy, since she likes to rememberShe was of those who disdain no complimentShe pleased society by appearing to find pleasure in itShe would have liked the world to be in mourningShe could not bear contemptShelter himself in the arms of the weak and recover courageShould be punished for not having known how to punishShould like better to do an immoral thing than a cruel oneSilence, alas! is not the reproof of kings aloneSimple people who doubt neither themselves nor othersSince she was in love, she had lost prudenceSkilful actor, who apes all the emotions while feeling noneSlip forth from the common herd, my son, think for yourselfSmall women ought not to grow stoutSo much confidence at first, so much doubt at lasSo well satisfied with his reply that he repeated it twiceSo strongly does force impose upon menSociety people condemned to hypocrisy and falsehoodSometimes we seem to enjoy unhappinessSometimes like to deck the future in the garments of the pastSorrows shrink into insignificance as the horizon broadensSpeak to me of your love, she said, "not of your griefSt. AugustineSucceeded in wearying him by her importunities and tendernessSuch artificial enjoyment, such idiotic laughterSuffered, and yet took pleasure in itSufferer becomes, as it were, enamored of his own agonySuffering is a human law; the world is an arenaSufficed him to conceive the plan of a reparationSullen tempers are excited by the patience of their victimsSuperior men sometimes lack clevernessSuperiority of the man who does nothing over the man who worksSuperstition which forbids one to proclaim his happinessSurprise goes for so much in what we admireSuspicion that he is a feeble human creature after all!Suspicions that are ever born anewSympathetic listening, never having herself anything to sayTake their levity for heroismTaken the times as they areTalk with me sometimes. You will not chatter trivialitiesTears for the futureTediousness seems to ooze out through their bindingsTerrible words; I deserve them, but they will kill meTerrible revenge she would take hereafter for her sufferingsThat suffering which curses but does not pardonThat you can aid them in leading better lives?That if we live the reason is that we hopeThat sort of cold charity which is called altruismThat absurd and generous fury for ownershipThe bandage love ties over the eyes of menThe future promises, it is the present that paysThe discouragement which the irreparable givesThe heart requires gradual changesThe future that is rent awayThe most radical breviary of scepticism since MontaigneThe door of one's room opens on the infiniteThe very smell of books is improvingThe looks of the young are always full of the futureThe recollection of that moment lasts for a lifetimeThe worst husband is always better than noneThe past is the only human reality—Everything that is, is pastThe man in power gives up his peaceThe happiness of the wise man costs but littleThe history of good people is often monotonous or painfulThe one whom you will love and who will love you will harm youThe women have enough religion for the menThe violent pleasure of losingThe poor must pay for all their enjoymentsThe great leveller has swung a long scythe over FranceThe real support of a government is the OppositionThe politician never should be in advance of circumstancesThe uncontested power which money bringsThe strong walk alone because they need no oneThe leaves fall! the leaves fall!The guilty will not feel your blows, but the innocentThe forests have taught man libertyThe ease with which he is forgottenThe Hungarian was created on horsebackThe most in favor will be the soonest abandoned by himThe usual remarks prompted by imbecility on such occasionsThe night brings counselThe sincere age when one thinks aloudThe groom isn't handsome, but the bride's as pretty as a pictureTheir Christian charity did not extend so far as thatTheir love requires a returnThere are many grand and strong things which you do not feelThere is an intelligent man, who never questions his ideasThere are some men who never have had any childhoodThere were too many discussions, and not enough actionThere are mountains that we never climb but onceThere are pious falsehoods which the Church excusesThere is always and everywhere a duty to fulfilThere is nothing good except to ignore and to forgetThere are some blunders that are lucky; but you can't tellThere will be no more belief in Christ than in JupiterThere are two different men in youThese are things that one admits only to himselfThese ideas may serve as opium to produce a calmThey tremble while they threatenThey loved not as you love, eh?They had only one aim, one passion—to enjoy themselvesThey are the coffin saying: 'I am the cradle'They have believed me incapable because I was kindThinking it better not to lie on minor pointsThis popular favor is a cup one must drinkThis was the Dauphin, afterward Louis XIVThis unending warfare we call loveThose whom they most amuse are those who are best worth amusingThose who have outlived their illusionsTicking of which (our arteries) can be heard only at nightTies that unite children to parents are unloosedTies that become duties where we only sought pleasuresTies which unite parents to children are brokenTimidity of a night-bird that is made to fly in the dayTired smile of those who have not long to liveTo make a will is to put one foot into the graveTo learn to obey is the only way of learning to commandTo love is a great deal—To know how to love is everythingTo be able to smoke a cigar without being sickTo be beautiful, must a woman have that thin formTo be your own guide doubles your pleasureToast and white wine (for breakfast)Too prudent to risk or gain muchTopics that occupy people who meet for the first timeTrees, dwarfed by a Japanese processTrees are like men; there are some that have no luckTrue talent paints life rather than the livingTruth is easily found. I shall read all the newspapersTruth, I here venture to distinguish from that of the TrueTrying to conceal by a smile (a blush)Trying to make Therese admire what she did not knowTwo persons who desired neither to remember nor to forgetTwo thirds of human existence are wasted in hesitationUmbrellas, like black turtles under the watery skiesUnable to speak, for each word would have been a sobUnfortunate creature who is the plaything of lifeUnhappy man!" she cried, "you will never know how to loveUniversal suffrage, with its accustomed intelligenceUnqualified for happinessUnwilling to leave him to the repose he neededUpon my word, there are no ugly ones (women)Urbain GrandierVague hope came over him that all would come rightVery young, and was in love with loveVexed, act in direct contradiction to their own wishesVirtue made friends, but she did not take pupilsVoice of the heart which alone has power to reach the heartVoid in her heart, a place made ready for disasters to comeWalked at the rapid pace characteristic of monomaniacsWas I not warned enough of the sadness of everything?Waste all that upon a thing that nobody will ever look atWe are too happy; we are robbing lifeWe had taken the dream of a day for eternal happinessWe weep, we do not complainWe are so unhappy that our souls are weak against joyWe have had a mass celebrated, and it cost us a large sumWe are not bound to live, while we are bound to do our dutyWe do not understand that others may live on their own accountWe are simple to this degree, that we do not think we areWere certain against all reasonWhat is a man who remains uselessWhat will be the use of having tormented ourselves in this worldWhat use is the memory of facts, if not to serve as an exampleWhat you take for love is nothing more than desireWhat matters it how much we sufferWhat human word will ever express thy slightest caressWhat have you done with the days God granted youWhat a small dwelling joy can liveWhen passion sways man, reason follows him weeping and warningWhen one speaks of the devil he appearsWhen he sings, it is because he has something to sing aboutWhen the inattentive spirits are not listeningWhen time has softened your griefWhether they know or do not know, they talkWhether in this world one must be a fanatic or nothingWhich I should find amusing in any one else,—any one I lovedWho has told you that tears can wash away the stains of guiltWhole world of politics and religion rushed to extremesWhy should I read the newspapers?Why mankind has chosen to call marriage a man-trapWill not admit that conscience is the proper guide of our actionWillingly seek a new sorrowWine suffuses the face as if to prevent shame appearing thereWiped his nose behind his hat, like a well-bred oratorWiping his forehead ostentatiouslyWith the habit of thinking, had not lost the habit of laughingWithout a care or a cross, he grew weary like a prisonerWoman is more bitter than death, and her arms are like chainsWomen who are thirty-five should never weepWomen: they are more bitter than deathWomen do not always confess it, but it is always their faultWord "sacrifice," so vague on careless lipsWords are nothing; it is the tone in which they are utteredWould not be astonished at anythingWould have liked him to be blind only so far as he was concernedYes, we are in the way hereYield to their customs, and not pooh-pooh their amusementsYou are in a conquered country, which is still more dangerousYou play with happiness as a child plays with a rattleYou love me, therefore you do not know meYou have considerable patience for a loverYou are talking too much about it to be sincereYou can not make an omelette without first breaking the eggsYou must be pleased with yourself—that is more essentialYou are playing 'who loses wins!'You suffer? Is fate so just as thatYou ask Life for certainties, as if she had any to give youYou must always first get the tobacco to burn evenlyYou a law student, while our farmers are in want of handsYou believe in what is said here below and not in what is doneYou turn the leaves of dead booksYou must take me with my own soul!You may know the game by the lairYour great weapon is silenceYouth is to judge of the world from first impressions