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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.
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
Ideas
Innocence
Guilty
Fellows
Prison
Empty
Ones
Brimming
Name
Cram
Names
Prisons
More quotes by Jean Anouilh
An ugly sight, a man who is afraid.
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Death has to be waiting at the end of the ride before you truly see the earth, and feel your heart, and love the world.
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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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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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There is love of course. And then there's life, its enemy.
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Have you noticed that life, with murders and catastrophes and fabulous inheritances, happens almost exclusively in newspapers?
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Things are beautiful if you love them.
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I don't want people to love me. It makes for obligations.
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Talent is like a faucet, while it is open, one must write.
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Death is beautiful. It alone gives love its true habitat.
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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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God! Is there anything uglier than a frightened man!
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One can be a patriot, you know, without making one's wife join the breadline.
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The only immorality is not to do what one has to do when one has to do it.
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When you are forty, half of you belongs to the past... And when you are seventy, nearly all of you.
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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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What you get free costs too much.
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Life isn't what you think it is. It's like water, and the young let it trickle away between their fingers without even noticing. Cup your hands, keep it safe. Life eventually becomes something else, something hard, something simple, something you can hold in your hand and nibble on contentedly as you sit in the sun.
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All children are sweet at five. But at twelve they begin to get silly.
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Poor little men, poor little cocks! As soon as they're old enough, they swell their plumage to be conquerors. If they only knew that it's enough to be just a little bit wounded and sad in order to obtain everything without fighting for it.
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