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The more we love our friends, the less we flatter them it is by excusing nothing that pure love shows itself.
Moliere
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Moliere
Age: 50 †
Born: 1622
Born: October 15
Died: 1673
Died: February 16
Dramaturge
Playwright
Poet
Satirist
Stage Actor
Theatrical Director
Paris
France
Jean-Baptiste Poquelin
Moliere
Jean-Baptiste Molière
Jean Baptiste Poquelin Molière
Pure
Friends
Less
Shows
Nothing
Love
Excusing
Flatter
More quotes by Moliere
I have a heart to love all the world and like Alexander I wish there were yet other worlds, so I could carry even further my amorous conquests.
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The maturing process of becoming a writer is akin to that of a harlot. First you do it for love, then for a few friends, and finally only for money.
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Great is the fortune of he who possesses a good bottle, a good book, and a good friend.
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The more powerful the obstacle, the more glory we have in overcoming it and the difficulties with which we are met are the maids of honor which set off virtue.
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It is madness beyond compare To try to reform the world.
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Birth is nothing without virtue, and we have no claim to share in the glory of our ancestors unless we endeavor to resemble them.
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I prefer a pleasant vice to an annoying virtue.
Moliere
The road is a long one from the projection of a thing to its accomplishment.
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Gold is the key, whatever else we try and that sweet metal aids the conqueror in every case, in love as well as war.
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Love is often the fruit of marriage.
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Ah! how annoying that the law doesn't allow a woman to change husbands just as one does shirts.
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People can be induced to swallow anything, provided it is sufficiently seasoned with praise.
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The envious will die, but envy never.
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Beauty without intelligence is like a hook without bait.
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Esteem must be founded on preference: to hold everyone in high esteem is to esteem nothing.
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My heavens! I've been talking prose for the last forty years without knowing it.
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Solitude terrifies the soul at twenty.
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Ah, there are no children nowadays.
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One cannot but mistrust a prospect of felicity: one must enjoy it before one can believe in it.
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I feed on good soup, not beautiful language.
Moliere
