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Brussels is a gay little city that lies as bright within its girdle of woodland as any butterfly that rests upon moss.
Ouida
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Ouida
Age: 69 †
Born: 1839
Born: January 1
Died: 1908
Died: January 25
Novelist
Writer
Bury St Edmunds
Suffolk
Marie Louise de la Ramée
Marie Louise Ramé
Marie Louise de la Ramee
Marie Louise Rame
Lies
Girdles
City
Woodland
Cities
Brussels
Within
Moss
Lying
Rests
Upon
Butterfly
Littles
Bright
Little
Gay
Girdle
More quotes by Ouida
We only see clearly when we have reached the depths of woe.
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Excess always carries its own retribution.
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The world never leaves one in ignorance or in peace.
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Dissimulation is the only thing that makes society possible without its amenities the world would be a bear-garden.
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What we love once, we love forever. Shall there be joy in heaven over those who repent, yet no forgiveness for them upon earth? --Wanda
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A just chastisement may benefit a man, though it seldom does but an unjust one changes all his blood to gall.
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Belief of some sort is the lifeblood of Art.
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Take hope from the heart of man, and you make him a beast of prey.
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I have known men who have been sold and bought a hundred times, who have only got very fat and very comfortable in the process of exchange.
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Charity is a flower not naturally of earthly growth, and it needs manuring with a promise of profit.
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The scorn of genius is the most arrogant and the most boundless of all scorn.
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No great talker ever did any great thing yet, in this world.
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Talent wears well, genius wears itself out talent drives a snug brougham in fact genius, a sun-chariot in fancy.
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An easy-going husband is the one indispensable comfort of life.
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There is nothing that you may not get people to believe in if you will only tell it them loud enough and often enough, till the welkin rings with it.
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The fire of true enthusiasm is like the fires of Baku, which no water can ever quench, and which burn steadily on from night to day, and year to year, because their well-spring is eternal.
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Christianity is a formula: it is nothing more.
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Indifference is the invisible giant of the world.
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When passion and habit long lie in company it is only slowly and with incredulity that habit awakens to finds its companion fled, itself alone.
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Count art by gold, and it fetters the feet it once winged.
Ouida
