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History, that excitable and unreliable old lady.

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
Excitable
Unreliable
Lady
History

More quotes by Guy de Maupassant

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She was the temptress who had ensnared the first man, and who still continued her work at damnation she was the being who is feeble, dangerous, mysteriously troubling. And even more than her body of perdition, he hated her loving soul.
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
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We breathe love as we breathe air we hold it in ourselves as we hold our thoughts. Nothing more exists for us.
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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I said, 'If other beings besides us exist on Earth, why didn't we meet them a long time ago?
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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The public is composed of numerous groups whose cry to us writers is: 'Comfort me.' 'Amuse me.' 'Touch my sympathies.' 'Make me sad.' 'Make me dream.' 'Make me laugh.' 'Make me shiver.' 'Make me weep.' 'Make me think.'
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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We breathe, sleep, drink, eat, work and then die! The end of life is death. What do you long for? Love? A few kisses and you will be powerless. Money? What for? To gratify your desires. Glory? What coems after it all? Death! Death alone is certain.
Guy de Maupassant
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To lie about a far country is easy
Guy de Maupassant
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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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We live always under the weight of the old and odious customs... of our barbarous ancestors.
Guy de Maupassant
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Solitude is indeed dangerous for a working intelligence. We need to have around us people who think and speak. When we are alone for a long time we people the void with phantoms
Guy de Maupassant
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Of all the passions, the only one that seems respectable to me is the passion for food
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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In the East men know panic, but they do not know what fright is.
Guy de Maupassant
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Travel, like dreams, is a door that opens from the real world into a world that is yet to be discovered
Guy de Maupassant
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Since governments take the right of death over their people, it is not astonishing if the people should sometimes take the right of death over governments.
Guy de Maupassant
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We are accustomed to use our eyes only with the memory of what other people before us have thought about the object we are looking at.
Guy de Maupassant
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Night was a very different matter. It was dense, thicker than the very walls, and it was empty, so black, so immense that within it you could brush against appalling things and feel roaming and prowling around a strange, mysterious horror.
Guy de Maupassant