Quote

You don't know what it is to stay a whole day with your head in your hands trying to squeeze your unfortunate brain so as to find a word.

Gustave Flaubert

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Gustave Flaubert
Age: 58 †
Born: 1821
Born: December 12
Died: 1880
Died: May 8
Novelist
Writer
Flaubert
Head
Brain
Word
Hands
Find
Whole
Squeeze
Trying
Unfortunate
Stay

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Writing is a dog's life, but the only life worth living.
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All you have to do to make something interesting is to look at it long enough.
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The more humanity advances, the more it is degraded.
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L'Ide e seule est e ternelle et ne cessaire. The idea alone is eternal and necessary.
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The future is the worst thing about the present.
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The true poet for me is a priest. As soon as he dons the cassock, he must leave his family.
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Women want you to deceive them: they force you to, and if you resist, they blame you.
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The most glorious moments in your life are not the so-called days of success, but rather those days when out of dejection and despair you feel rise in you a challenge to life, and the promise of future accomplishments.
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My foregrounds are imaginary, my backgrounds real.
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Life is so horrible that one can only bear it by avoiding it. And that can be done by living in the world of art.
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Our ignorance of history causes us to slander our own times.
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By working one can bend fortune. She is fond of crafty men.
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I go from exasperation to a state of collapse, then I recover and go from prostration to Fury, so that my average state is one of being annoyed.
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I have dreamed much and have done very little.
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I love good sense above all, perhaps because I have none.
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One must always hope when one is desperate, and doubt when one hopes.
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Prose is like hair it shines with combing.
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I had, as I told you, a great passion while still almost a child. When it was over, I divided myself in two, placing on one side the soul I kept for Art, and on the other, my body, which would have to fend for itself.
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As humanity perfects itself, man becomes degraded. When everything is reduced to the mere counter-balancing of economic interests, what room will there be for virtue? When Nature has been so subjugated that she has lost all her original forms, where will that leave the plastic arts? And so on. In the mean time, things are going to get very murky.
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You can calculate the worth of a man by the number of his enemies, and the importance of a work of art by the harm that is spoken of it.
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