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The day after that wedding night I found that a distance of a thousand miles, abyss and discovery and irremediable metamorphosis, separated me from the day before.
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
Miles
Discovery
Distance
Thousand
Irremediable
Found
Metamorphosis
Night
Separated
Abyss
Wedding
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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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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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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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That lovely voice how I should weep for joy if I could hear it now!
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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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I love my past, I love my present. I am not ashamed of what I have had, and I am not sad because I no longer have it.
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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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Be happy. It's one way of being wise.
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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 went to collect the few personal belongings which...I held to be invaluable: my cat, my resolve to travel, and my solitude.
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Writing only leads to more writing.
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At sixty-three years of age, less a quarter, one still has plans.
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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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A happy childhood is poor preparation for human contacts.
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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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