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Our entire life, with our fine moral code and our precious freedom, consists ultimately in accepting ourselves as we are.
Jean Anouilh
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Jean Anouilh
Age: 77 †
Born: 1910
Born: June 23
Died: 1987
Died: October 3
Author
Director
Dramatist
Film Director
Playwright
Screenwriter
Writer
Bordèu
Jean Marie Lucien Pierre Anouilh
Freedom
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Life
Code
Ultimately
Acceptance
Entire
Accepting
Fine
Moral
Consists
More quotes by Jean Anouilh
I don't want people to love me. It makes for obligations.
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Life is very nice, but it lacks form. It's the aim of art to give it some.
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Death is beautiful. It alone gives love its true habitat.
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All prisons are brimming over with innocence. It is those who cram their fellows into them, in the name of empty ideas, who are the only guilty ones.
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Things are beautiful if you love them.
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Are you in earnest? Seize this very minute! Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it. Only engage, and then the mind grows heated. Begin, and then the work will be completed.
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Don't make the mistake of believing it's enough to reproduce the realities of life.... The object of art is to give life a shape, and to do it by every conceivable artifice.
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God is on everyone's side... and in the last analysis, he is on the side with plenty of money and large armies.
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Believe me all evil comes from the old. They grow fat on ideas and young men die of them.
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Oh, love is real enough you will find it someday, but it has one archenemy - and that is life.
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Nothing is irreparable in politics.
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Il y aura toujours un chien perdu quelque part qui m'empe chera d'e tre heureux. There will always be a lost dog somewhere that will prevent me being happy.
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Beauty is one of the rare things that do not lead to doubt of God.
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Life is a child playing round your feet, a tool you hold firmly in your grip, a bench you sit down upon in the evening, in your garden.
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Talent is like a faucet, while it is open, one must write.
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The true masters of the art of living are already happy.
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Beauty, real beauty, is something very grave. If there is a God, He must be partly that.
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Love is, above all, the gift of oneself.
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There is love of course. And then there's life, its enemy.
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Inspiration? - a hoax fabricated by poets for their self-importance.
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