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No temptation can ever be measured by the value of its object.
Sidonie Gabrielle Colette
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Sidonie Gabrielle Colette
Age: 81 †
Born: 1873
Born: January 28
Died: 1954
Died: August 3
Actor
Ghostwriter
Journalist
Librettist
Novelist
Playwright
Prosaist
Screenwriter
Short Story Writer
Writer
Montagne-sur-Loing
Sidonie-Gabrielle Colette
Sidonie Gabrielle Colette
Objects
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More quotes by Sidonie Gabrielle Colette
One keeps forgetting old age up to the very brink of the grave.
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Don't cudgel your brains over my little problems.
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Truffles must come to the table in their own stock and as you break open this jewel sprung from a poverty-stricken soil, imagine - if you have never visited it - the desolate kingdom where it rules.
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Writing only leads to more writing.
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Smokers, male and female, inject and excuse idleness in their lives every time they light a cigarette.
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A woman who thinks she is intelligent demands the same rights as man. An intelligent woman gives up.
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A pretty little collection of weaknesses and a terror of spiders are our indispensable stock-in-trade with the men...
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In the matter of furnishing, I find a certain absence of ugliness far worse than ugliness.
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Jealousy is not at all low, but it catches us humbled and bowed down, at first sight.
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There is no need to waste pity on young girls who are having their moments of disillusionment, for in another moment they will recover their illusion.
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Voluptuaries, consumed by their senses, always begin by flinging themselves with a great display of frenzy into an abyss. But they survive, they come to the surface again. And they develop a routine of the abyss: It's four o clock. At five I have my abyss.
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Is suffering so very serious? ...I'm referring to the kind of suffering a man inflicts on a woman or a woman on a man. It's extremely painful... hardly bearable. But I very much fear that this sort of pain... is no more worthy of respect than old age or illness.
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Perhaps the only misplaced curiosity is that which persists in trying to find out here, on this side of death, what lies beyond the grave.
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By an image we hold on to our lost treasures, but it is the wrenching loss that forms the image, composes, binds the bouquet.
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Books, books, books. It was not that I read so much. I read and re-read the same ones. But all of them were necessary to me. Their presence, their smell, the letters of their titles, and the texture of their leather bindings.
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By means of an image we are often able to hold on to our lost belongings. But it is the desperateness of losing which picks the flowers of memory, binds the bouquet.
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If he's getting married, he's not longer interesting.
Sidonie Gabrielle Colette
It is wise to apply the oil of refined politeness to the mechanisms of friendship.
Sidonie Gabrielle Colette
It's so curious: one can resist tears and 'behave' very well in the hardest hours of grief. But then someone makes you a friendly sign behind a window, or one notices that a flower that was in bud only yesterday has suddenly blossomed, or a letter slips from a drawer... and everything collapses.
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If we want to be sincere, we must admit that there is a well-nourished love and an ill-nourished love. And the rest is literature.
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