Quotes from Kate Chopin

If I were young and in love with a man, said Mademoiselle, turning on the stool and pressing her wiry hands between her knees as she looked down at Edna, who sat on the floor holding the letter, it seems to me he would have to be some grand esprit; a man with lofty aims and ability to reach them; one who stood high enough to attract the notice of his fellow-men. It seems to me if I were young and in love I should never deem a man of ordinary caliber worthy of my devotion.

Ah! si tu savais Ce que tes yeux me disent

He could see plainly that she was not herself. That is, he could not see that she was becoming herself and daily casting aside the fictitious self which we assume like a garment with which to appear before the world.

A characteristic which distinguished them and which impressed Mrs. Pontellier most forcibly was their entire absence of prudery.

As the devoted wife of a man that worshiped her, she felt she would take her place with a certain dignity in the world of reality, closing the portals forever behind her upon the realm of romance and dreams

Well, for instance, when I left her today, she put her arms around me and felt my shoulder blades, to see if my wings were strong, she said. 'The bird that would soar above the level plain of tradition and prejudice must have strong wings. It is a sad spectacle to see the weaklings bruised, exhausted, fluttering back to earth.

One of these days, she said, I'm going to pull myself together for a while and think—try to determine what character of a woman I am; for, candidly, I don't know. By all the codes which I am acquainted with, I am a devilishly wicked specimen of the sex. But some way I can't convince myself that I am. I must think about it.

The golden shimmer of Edna's satin gown spread in rich folds on either side of her. There was a soft fall of lace encircling her shoulders. It was the color of her skin, without the glow, the myriad living tints that one may sometimes discover in vibrant flesh. There was something in her attitude, in her whole appearance when she leaned her head against the high-backed chair and spread her arms, which suggested the regal woman, the one who rules, who looks on, who stands alone.

I suppose this is what you would call unwomanly; but I have got into a habit of expressing myself. It doesn't matter to me, and you may think me unwomanly if you like.

Glasul m?rii este seduc?tor; f?r? s? se opreasc? vreodat?, È™uÈ™otind, protestând, murmurând, invitând sufletul s? r?t?ceasc? un r?stimp în abisul singur?t??ii, s? se piard? în labirintul contempl?rii de sine. Glasul m?rii vorbeÈ™te sufletului nostru. Mângâierea m?rii este senzual?, înv?luind trupul în îmbr??iÈ™area ei dulce È™i intim?.

Lo sentì agitarsi nella camera; ogni rumore indicava impazienza e irritazione. Una volta sarebbe rientrata, alla sua richiesta. Per abitudine, si sarebbe concessa al suo desiderio; non in senso di sottomissione o di obbedienza verso le sue richieste perentorie, ma senza pensarci, proprio come si cammina, ci si muove, ci si siede e ci si rialza, si sopporta insomma il tran tran quotidiano della vita che ci è stata assegnata.

She could see in the open square before her house the tops of trees that were all aquiver with the new spring life. The delicious breath of rain was in the air. In the street below a peddler was crying his wears. The notes of a distant song which someone was singing reached her faintly, and countless sparrows were twittering in the eaves. There were patches of blue sky showing here and there though the clouds that had met and pilled one above the other in the west facing her window.

Pirate gold isn't a thing to be hoarded or utilized. It is something to squander and throw to the four winds, for the fun of seeing the golden specks fly.

I've been working like a machine, and feeling like a lost soul.

She felt as if a mist had been lifted from her eyes, enabling her to took upon and comprehend the significance of life, that monster made up of beauty and brutality

The persistence of the infatuation lent it an aspect of genuineness. The hopelessness of it colored it with the lofty tones of a great passion

The past was nothing to her; offered no lesson which she was willing to heed. The future was a mystery which she never attempted to penetrate. The present alone was significant; was hers, to torture her as it was doing then with the biting conviction that she had lost that which she had held, that she had been denied that which her impassioned, newly awakened being demanded.

Her fancy was running riot along those days ahead of her. Spring days, and summer days, and all sorts of days that would be her own. She breathed a quick prayer that life might be long. It was only yesterday she had thought with a shudder that life might be long.

A kind intention or a cruel intention made the act seem no less a crime...

I shall die. I must die. I cannot be so unhappy, and live.

There would be no powerful will bending hers in that blind persistence with which men and women believe they have a right to impose a private will upon a fellow-creature.

There would be no one there to live for her during those coming years; she would live for herself. There would be no powerful will bending hers in that blind persistence with which men and women believe they have a right to impose a private will upon a fellow-creature. A kind intention or a cruel intention made the act seem no less a crime as she looked upon it in that brief moment of illumination.

What could love, the unsolved mystery, count for in the face of this possession of self-assertion which she suddenly recognized as the strongest impulse of her being!

The voice of the sea is seductive. - Kate Chopin, The Awakening