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I don't know where my road is going, but I know that I walk better when I hold your hand.
Alfred de Musset
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Alfred de Musset
Age: 46 †
Born: 1810
Born: December 11
Died: 1857
Died: May 2
Chess Composer
Dramatist
Librarian
Novelist
Playwright
Poet
Writer
Paris
France
Alfred Louis Charles de Musset-Pathay
Alfred De Musset
Louis Charles Alfred Musset
Alfred de Musset-Pathay
Alfred Louis Charles de Musset
Road
Walk
Hold
Walks
Hand
Hands
Better
Going
More quotes by Alfred de Musset
In love matters keep your pen from paper.
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Vanity and dignity are incompatible with each other vain women are almost sure to be vulnerable.
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Take time as it comes, the wind as it blows, woman as she is.
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The soft contralto notes of a woman's voice are born in the immediate region of the heart.
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A lively retrospect summons back to us once more our youth, with vivid reflex of its early joys and unstained pleasures.
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A happy memory is perhaps on this earth truer than happiness itself.
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Nothing is a sin when you obey the orders of a priest
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One must not trifle with love
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Is is true that dictators never dream because they can change their smallest fantasies into realities if they want to?
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The fumes of wine fermented in my head it was one of those moments of intoxication when all that ones sees and hears, speaks to one of the adored.... One would willingly embrace all who smile, and one feels that he is brother of all who live.
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Life is a sleep, love is a dream and you have lived if you have loved.
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I have come too late into a world too old.
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I could not clearly distinguish what was passing in my head it seemed to me that I was under the influence of a horrible dream and that I had but to awake to find myself cured at times it seemed that my entire life had been a dream, ridiculous and childish, the falseness of which had just been disclosed.
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Become corrupt, corrupt, and you will cease to suffer! This has been the cry of all cities to man.
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Memory is what makes us young or old.
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There is no worse sorrow than remembering happiness in the day of sorrow.
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... but one loves, and when one is on the brink of death, one turns around to look backward, and one says to oneself: I have often suffered, I have sometimes been wrong, but I have loved.
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Great artists have no country.
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Romanticism is the abuse of adjectives
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What I need is a woman who is something, anything: either very beautiful or very kind or in the last resort very wicked very witty or very stupid, but something.
Alfred de Musset