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Whatever you want to say, there is only one word to express it, only one verb to give it movement, only one adjective to qualify it.

Guy de Maupassant

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Guy de Maupassant
Age: 42 †
Born: 1850
Born: August 5
Died: 1893
Died: July 6
Author
Journalist
Novelist
Playwright
Poet
Short Story Writer
Writer
Henri René Albert Guy de Maupassant
Henri Rene Albert Guy de Maupassant
Guy de Valmont
Joseph Prunier
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More quotes by Guy de Maupassant

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I have coveted everything and taken pleasure in nothing
Guy de Maupassant
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There is only one good thing in life, and that is love. And how you misunderstand it! how you spoil it! You treat it as something solemn like a sacrament, or something to be bought, like a dress.
Guy de Maupassant
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A sick thought can devour the body's flesh more than fever or consumption.
Guy de Maupassant
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Patriotism is a kind of religion it is the egg from which wars are hatched.
Guy de Maupassant
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You have the army of mediocrities followed by the multitude of fools. As the mediocrities and the fools always form the immense majority, it is impossible for them to elect an intelligent government.
Guy de Maupassant
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I know nothing more enjoyable than that happy-go-lucky wandering life, in which you are perfectly free without shackles of any kind, without care, without preoccupation, without thought even of to-morrow. You go in any direction you please, without any guide save your fancy.
Guy de Maupassant
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To avoid each other, their eyes had developed an amazing mobility with all the cunning of enemies fearful of meeting each other head on.
Guy de Maupassant
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To contest an author's right to create a poetic or realistic work is to want to force him to change his temperament, challenge his originality, refuse to allow him to use the eye and the intelligence nature has given him.
Guy de Maupassant
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Champagne... the wine of kings, the king of wines
Guy de Maupassant
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I entered literary life as a meteor, and I shall leave it like a thunderbolt.
Guy de Maupassant
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I told myself 'Everything is a being! The shout that passes into the air is an entity like an animal, since it is born, produces a movement, and is again transformed, in order to die. So the fearful mind that believes in incorporeal beings is not wrong. What are they?
Guy de Maupassant
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How weak our mind is how quickly it is terrified and unbalanced as soon as we are confronted with a small, incomprehensible fact. Instead of dismissing the problem with: We do not understand because we cannot find the cause, we immediately imagine terrible mysteries and supernatural powers.
Guy de Maupassant
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A human being - what is a human being? Everything and nothing. Through the power of thought it can mirror everything it experiences. Through memory and knowledge it becomes a microcosm, carrying the world within itself. A mirror of things, a mirror of facts. Each human being becomes a little universe within the universe!
Guy de Maupassant
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She was a sweet girl but not really pretty, a rough sketch of a woman with a little of everything in her, one of those silhouettes which artists draw in three strokes on the tablecloth in a café after dinner, between a glass of brandy and a cigarette. Nature sometimes turns out creatures like that.
Guy de Maupassant
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We live always under the weight of the old and odious customs... of our barbarous ancestors.
Guy de Maupassant
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To lie about a far country is easy
Guy de Maupassant
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Great minds that are healthy are never considered geniuses, while this sublime qualification is lavished on brains that are often inferior but are slightly touched by madness.
Guy de Maupassant
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A man forced to spend his life without ever having the right, without ever finding the time, to shut himself up all alone, no matter where, to think, to reflect, to work, to dream? Ah! my dear boy, a key, the key of a door which one can lock this is happiness, mark you, the only happiness!
Guy de Maupassant
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Our memory is a more perfect world than the universe: it gives back life to those who no longer exist.
Guy de Maupassant
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And taking her friend’s hand, she put it on her breast, on that firm round covering of a woman’s heart which the male often finds so satisfying that he makes no attempt to find what lies beneath it.
Guy de Maupassant