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So now, whenever I despair, I no longer expect my end, but some bit of luck, some commonplace little miracle which, like a glittering link, will mend again the necklace of my days.

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
Ends
Whenever
Littles
Despair
Necklace
Little
Miracle
Necklaces
Like
Luck
Glittering
Expect
Mend
Longer
Link
Bits
Commonplace
Days
Links

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One keeps forgetting old age up to the very brink of the grave.
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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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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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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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When she raises her eyelids it's as if she were taking off all her clothes.
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I am going away with him to an unknown country where I shall have no past and no name, and where I shall be born again with a new face and an untried heart.
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Don't cudgel your brains over my little problems.
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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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I am indebted to the cat for a particular kind of honorable deceit, for a greater control over myself, for a characteristic aversion to brutal sounds, and for the need to keep silent for long periods of time.
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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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We only do well the things we like doing.
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Time spent with a cat is never wasted.
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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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Be happy. It's one way of being wise.
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There are days when solitude, for someone my age, is a heady wine that intoxicates you with freedom, others when it is a bitter tonic, and still others when it is a poison that makes you beat your head against the wall.
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January, month of empty pockets! let us endure this evil month, anxious as a theatrical producer's forehead.
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There are no ordinary cats.
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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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It is wise to apply the oil of refined politeness to the mechanisms of friendship.
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The only virtue on which I pride myself is my self-doubt when a writer loses her self-doubt, the time has come to lay aside her pen.
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