Quotes from Gustave Flaubert

Then she asked herself, Isn't he in love with someone? Who could it be? …Why, it's me! All the evidence immediately became clear to her, and her heart leapt.

Ä°nsan, ÅŸeytan?n yan?na yaklaÅŸmas?na izin verdi mi, art?k iradesi üzerindeki denetimini kaybeder. Gözleri kapan?r; iyiyle kötüyü, doÄŸruyla yanl??? ay?ramaz olur.

On the hill there was a poor old tramp wandering about with his stick, in among the carriages. A mass of rags covered his shoulders, and a squashed beaver-hat, bent down into the shape of a bowl, concealed his face; but, when he took it off, he exposed, instead of eyelids, two yawning bloodstained holes. The flesh was tattered into scarlet strips; and fluid was trickling out, congealing into green crusts that reached down to his nose, with black nostrils that kept sniffing convulsively.

Demek ki, mutluluÄŸun yerinde daha büyük mutluluk, bütün aÅŸklar?n üzerinde aral?ks?z, sonsuz ve sürekli artacak olan baÅŸka bir aÅŸk vard?!

But the most wretched thing, is it not—is to drag out, as I do, a useless existence. If our pains were only of some use to someone, we should find consolation in the thought of the sacrifice.

The only way not to be unhappy is to shut yourself up in art, and count everything else as nothing.

pass your examinations. It is always a good thing to have a handle to your name: and, without more ado, give up your Catholic and Satanic poets, whose philosophy is as old as the twelfth century! Your despair is silly. The very greatest men have had more difficult beginnings, as in the case of Mirabeau.

Before her marriage, she had believed that what she was experiencing was love; but since the happiness that should have resulted from that love had not come, she thought she must have been mistaken. And Emma tried to find out just what was meant, in life, by the words bliss, passion, and intoxication, which had seemed so beautiful to her in books.

For this was how they would have wished to be, each setting up an ideal to which they were now adapting their past life. Besides, speech is a rolling-mill that always thins out the sentiment.

a demand for money being, of all the winds that blow upon love, the coldest and most destructive.

Happiness is a monstrosity! Punished are those who seek it.

Leur manière de vivre - qui n'était pas celle des autres - déplaisait. Ils devinrent suspects; et même inspiraient une vague terreur.

On peut juger de la bonté d'un livre à la vigueur des coups de poing qu'il vous a donnés et à la longueur de temps qu'on est ensuite à en revenir.

Era la enamorada de todas las novelas, la heroína de todos los dramas, el vago "ella" de todos los volúmenes de versos. Encontraba en sus hombros el color ambarino de la odalisca en el baño, tenía el largo corpiño de las castellanas feudales; se parecía también a la mujer pálida de Barcelona ¡Pero por encima de todo era un ángel!

for he was in one of those crises in which the whole soul shows indistinctly what it contains, like the ocean, which, in the storm, opens itself from the seaweeds on its shores down to the sands of its abysses.

Read in order to live

Rien ne vaut les souvenirs et les illusions de l'adolescence.

This man, who was so experienced in love, couldn't distinguish the dissimilarity in the emotions, behind the similarity of the expressions.

Et Emma cherchait à savoir ce que l'on entendait au juste dans la vie par les mots de félicité, de passion et d'ivresse, qui lui avaient paru si beaux dans les livres.

This sense of my own weakness and emptiness comforts me. I feel myself a mere speck of dust lost in space, yet I am part of that endless grandeur which envelopes me. I could never see why that should be cause for despair, since there could very well be nothing at all behind the black curtain.

Il y avait des chênes rugueux, énormes, qui se convulsaient, s'étiraient du sol, s'étreignaient les uns les autres, et, fermes sur leurs troncs, pareils à des torses, se lançaient avec leurs bras nus des appels de désespoir, des menaces furibondes, comme un groupe de Titans immobilisés dans leur colère. Quelque

León estaba cansado de amar sin resultados; además comenzaba a sentir esa postración que causa en una la repetición de la misma vida, cuando ningún interés la dirige y ninguna esperanza la sostiene.

Oh, why, dear God, did I marry him?

Thus death is only an illusion, a veil, masking betimes the continuity of life.