QUOTES AND IMAGES: THE FRENCH IMMORTALS

    The Project Gutenberg EBook of The French Immortals, by Various

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    Title: The French Immortals
           Quotes And Images

    Author: Various

    Editor: David Widger

    Release Date: July 13, 2009 [EBook #29402]

    Language: English

    Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1

    *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FRENCH IMMORTALS ***

    Produced by David Widger

## QUOTES AND IMAGES: THE FRENCH IMMORTALS

# THE FRENCH IMMORTALS

<

## CONTENTS

THE INK STAIN | Rene Bazin
JACQUELINE | Therese Bentzon (Mme. Blanc)
GERFAUT | Charles de Bernard
COSMOPOLIS | Paul Bourget
PRINCE ZILAH | Jules Caretie
A ROMANCE OF YOUTH | Francois Coppee
FROMONT AND RISLER | Alphonse Daudet
CINQ MARS | Alfred de Vigny
M.M. AND BEBE | Gustave Droz
MONSIEUR DE CAMORS | Octave Feuillet
THE RED LILY | Anatole France
ABBE CONSTANTIN | Ludovic Halevey
CHRYSANTHEME | Pierre Loti
CONSCIENCE | Hector Malot
ZIBELINE | Phillipe de Massa
THE CHILD OF A CENTURY | Alfred de Musset
SERGE PANINE | George Ohnet
AN "ATTIC" PHILOSOPHER | Emile Souvestre
A WOODLAND QUEEN | Andre Theuriet

## THE INK STAIN, By Rene Bazin

    All that a name is to a street—
    its honor, its spouse

    Came not in single spies, but in
    battalions

    Distrust first impulse

    Felix culpa

    Happy men don't need company

    Hard that one can not live one's life
    over twice

    He always loved to pass for being
    overwhelmed with work

    I don't call that fishing

    If trouble awaits us, hope will  steal
    us a happy hour or two

    Lends—I should say gives

    Men forget sooner

    Natural only when alone, and talk well
    only to themselves

    Obstacles are the salt of all our joys

    One doesn't offer apologies to a man in
    his wrath

    People meeting to "have it out" usually
    say nothing at first

    Silence, alas! is not the reproof of
    kings alone

    Skilful actor, who apes all the
    emotions while feeling none

    Sorrows shrink into insignificance as
    the horizon broadens

    Surprise goes for so much in what we
    admire

    The very smell of books is improving

    The looks of the young are always full
    of the future

    There are some blunders that are lucky;
    but you can't tell

    To be your own guide doubles your
    pleasure

    You a law student, while our farmers
    are in want of hands

    You must always first get the tobacco
    to burn evenly

    You ask Life for certainties, as if she
    had any to give you

## JACQUELINE, By Therese Bentzon (Mme. Blanc)

    A familiarity which, had he known it,
    was not flattering

    A mother's geese are always swans

    As we grow older we lay aside harsh
    judgments and sharp words

    Bathers, who exhibited themselves in
    all degrees of ugliness

    Blow which annihilates our supreme
    illusion

    Death is not that last sleep

    Fool (there is no cure for that
    infirmity)

    Fred's verses were not good, but they
    were full of dejection

    Great interval between a dream and its
    execution

    Hang out the bush, but keep no tavern

    His sleeplessness was not the insomnia
    of genius

    Importance in this world are as easily
    swept away as the sand

    Music—so often dangerous to married
    happiness

    Natural longing, that we all have,
    to know the worst

    Notion of her husband's having an
    opinion of his own

    Old women—at least thirty years old!

    Pride supplies some sufferers with
    necessary courage

    Seemed to enjoy themselves, or made
    believe they did

    Seldom troubled himself to please any
    one he did not care for

    Small women ought not to grow stout

    Sympathetic listening, never having
    herself anything to say

    The bandage love ties over the eyes
    of men

    The worst husband is always better
    than none

    This unending warfare we call love

    Unwilling to leave him to the repose
    he needed

    Waste all that upon a thing that nobody
    will ever look at

    Women who are thirty-five should never
    weep

## GERFAUT, By Charles de Bernard

    Antipathy for her husband bordering
    upon aversion

    Attractions that difficulties give
    to pleasure

    Attractive abyss of drunkenness

    Consented to become a wife so as not
    to remain a maiden

    Despotic tone which a woman assumes
    when sure of her empire

    Evident that the man was above his
    costume; a rare thing!

    I believed it all; one is so happy to
    believe!

    It is a terrible step for a woman to
    take, from No to Yes

    Lady who requires urging, although she
    is dying to sing

    Let them laugh that win!

    Let ultra-modesty destroy poetry

    Love is a fire whose heat dies out for
    want of fuel

    Mania for fearing that she may be
    compromised

    Material in you to make one of Cooper's
    redskins

    Misfortunes never come single

    No woman is unattainable, except when
    she loves another

    Obstinacy of drunkenness

    Recourse to concessions is often as
    fatal to women as to kings

    Regards his happiness as a proof of
    superiority

    She said yes, so as not to say no

    These are things that one admits only
    to himself

    Those whom they most amuse are those
    who are best worth amusing

    Topics that occupy people who meet for
    the first time

    Trying to conceal by a smile (a blush)

    When one speaks of the devil he appears

    Wiped his nose behind his hat, like a
    well-bred orator

    You are playing 'who loses wins!'

## COSMOPOLIS, By Paul Bourget

    Conditions of blindness so voluntary
    that they become complicity

    Despotism natural to puissant
    personalities

    Egyptian tobacco, mixed with opium and
    saltpetre

    Follow their thoughts instead of
    heeding objects

    Has as much sense as the handle of a
    basket

    Have never known in the morning what I
    would do in the evening

    I no longer love you

    Imagine what it would be never to have
    been born

    Mediocre sensibility

    Melancholy problem of the birth and
    death of love

    Mobile and complaisant conscience had
    already forgiven himself

    No flies enter a closed mouth

    Not an excuse, but an explanation of
    your conduct

    One of those trustful men who did not
    judge when they loved

    Only one thing infamous in love, and
    that is a falsehood

    Pitiful checker-board of life

    Scarcely a shade of gentle
    condescension

    Sufficed him to conceive the plan of a
    reparation

    That suffering which curses but does
    not pardon

    That you can aid them in leading better
    lives?

    The forests have taught man liberty

    There is an intelligent man, who never
    questions his ideas

    There is always and everywhere a duty
    to fulfil

    Thinking it better not to lie on minor
    points

    Too prudent to risk or gain much

    Walked at the rapid pace characteristic
    of monomaniacs

    Words are nothing; it is the tone in
    which they are uttered

## PRINCE ZILAH, By Jules Claretie

    A man's life belongs to his duty,
    and not to his happiness

    All defeats have their geneses

    An hour of rest between two ordeals,
    a smile between two sobs

    Anonymous, that velvet mask of
    scandal-mongers

    At every step the reality splashes you
    with mud

    Bullets are not necessarily on the side
    of the right

    Does one ever forget?

    Foreigners are more Parisian than the
    Parisians themselves

    History is written, not made.

    "I might forgive," said Andras; "but I
    could not forget"

    If well-informed people are to be
    believe

    Insanity is, perhaps, simply the ideal
    realized

    It is so good to know nothing, nothing,
    nothing

    Let the dead past bury its dead!

    Life is a tempest

    Man who expects nothing of life except
    its ending

    Nervous natures, as prompt to hope as
    to despair

    No answer to make to one who has no
    right to question me

    Not only his last love, but his only
    love

    Nothing ever astonishes me

    One of those beings who die, as they
    have lived, children

    Pessimism of to-day sneering at his
    confidence of yesterday

    Playing checkers, that mimic warfare of
    old men

    Poverty brings wrinkles

    Sufferer becomes, as it were, enamored
    of his own agony

    Superstition which forbids one to
    proclaim his happiness

    Taken the times as they are

    The Hungarian was created on horseback

    There were too many discussions, and
    not enough action

    Unable to speak, for each word would
    have been a sob

    What matters it how much we suffer

    Why should I read the newspapers?

    Willingly seek a new sorrow

    Would not be astonished at anything

    You suffer?  Is fate so just as that

## A ROMANCE OF YOUTH, By Francois Coppee

    Break in his memory, like a book with
    several leaves torn out

    Dreams, instead of living

    Egotists and cowards always have a
    reason for everything

    Eternally condemned to kill each other
    in order to live

    Fortunate enough to keep those one
    loves

    God forgive the timid and the prattler!

    Good form consists, above all things,
    in keeping silent

    Happiness exists only by snatches and
    lasts only a moment

    He does not know the miseries of
    ambition and vanity

    He almost regretted her

    How sad these old memorics are in the
    autumn

    Inoffensive tree which never had harmed
    anybody

    Intimate friend, whom he has known for
    about five minutes

    It was all delightfully terrible!

    Learned that one leaves college almost
    ignorant

    Mild, unpretentious men who let
    everybody run over them

    My good fellow, you are quite worthless
    as a man of pleasure

    Never travel when the heart is
    troubled!

    Not more honest than necessary

    Now his grief was his wife, and lived
    with him

    Paint from nature

    Poor France of Jeanne d'Arc and of
    Napoleon

    Redouble their boasting after each
    defeat

    Society people condemned to hypocrisy
    and falsehood

    Take their levity for heroism

    Tediousness seems to ooze out through
    their bindings

    The leaves fall!  the leaves fall!

    The sincere age when one thinks aloud

    Tired smile of those who have not long
    to live

    Trees are like men; there are some that
    have no luck

    Universal suffrage, with its accustomed
    intelligence

    Upon my word, there are no ugly ones
    (women)

    Very young, and was in love with love

    Voice of the heart which alone has
    power to reach the heart

    Were certain against all reason

    When he sings, it is because he has
    something to sing about

## FROMONT AND RISLER, By Alphonse Daudet

    A man may forgive, but he never forgets

    Abundant details which he sometimes
    volunteered

    Affectation of indifference

    Always smiling condescendingly

    Charm of that one day's rest and its
    solemnity

    Clashing knives and forks mark time

    Convent of Saint Joseph, four shoes
    under the bed!

    Deeming every sort of occupation
    beneath him

    Dreams of wealth and the disasters that
    immediately followed

    Exaggerated dramatic pantomime

    Faces taken by surprise allow their
    real thoughts to be seen

    He fixed the time mentally when he
    would speak

    Little feathers fluttering for an
    opportunity to fly away

    Make for themselves a horizon of the
    neighboring walls and roofs

    No one has ever been able to find out
    what her thoughts were

    Pass half the day in procuring two
    cakes, worth three sous

    She was of those who disdain no
    compliment

    Such artificial enjoyment, such idiotic
    laughter

    Superiority of the man who does nothing
    over the man who works

    Terrible revenge she would take
    hereafter for her sufferings

    The poor must pay for all their
    enjoyments

    The groom isn't handsome, but the
    bride's as pretty as a picture

    Void in her heart, a place made ready
    for disasters to come

    Wiping his forehead ostentatiously

    Word "sacrifice," so vague on careless
    lips

    Would have liked him to be blind only
    so far as he was concerned

## CINQ MARS, By Alfred de Vigny

    A cat is a very fine animal.  It is a
    drawing-room tiger

    A queen's country is where her throne
    is

    Adopted fact is always better composed
    than the real one

    Advantage that a calm temper gives one
    over men

    All that he said, I had already thought

    Always the first word which is the most
    difficult to say

    Ambition is the saddest of all hopes

    Art is the chosen truth

    Artificialities of style of that period

    Artistic Truth, more lofty than the
    True

    As Homer says, "smiling under tears"

    Assume with others the mien they wore
    toward him

    But how avenge one's self on silence?

    Dare now to be silent when I have told
    you these things

    Daylight is detrimental to them

    Deny the spirit of self-sacrifice

    Difference which I find between Truth
    in art and the True in fac

    Doubt, the greatest misery of love

    Friendship exists only in independence
    and a kind of equality

    Happy is he who does not outlive his
    youth

    Hatred of everything which is superior
    to myself

    He did not blush to be a man, and he
    spoke to men with force

    Hermits can not refrain from inquiring
    what men say of them

    History too was a work of art

    I have burned all the bridges behind me

    In pitying me he forgot himself

    In every age we laugh at the costume of
    our fathers

    In times like these we must see all and
    say all

    It is not now what it used to be

    It is too true that virtue also has its
    blush

    Lofty ideal of woman and of love

    Men are weak, and there are things
    which women must accomplish

    Money is not a common thing between
    gentlemen like you and me

    Monsieur, I know that I have lived too
    long

    Neither idealist nor realist

    Never interfered in what did not
    concern him

    No writer had more dislike of mere
    pedantry

    Offices will end by rendering great
    names vile

    Princes ought never to be struck,
    except on the head

    Princesses ceded like a town, and must
    not even weep

    Principle that art implied selection

    Recommended a scrupulous observance of
    nature

    Remedy infallible against the plague
    and against reserve

    Reproaches are useless and cruel if the
    evil is done

    Should be punished for not having known
    how to punish

    So strongly does force impose upon men

    Tears for the future

    The great leveller has swung a long
    scythe over France

    The most in favor will be the soonest
    abandoned by him

    The usual remarks prompted by
    imbecility on such occasions

    These ideas may serve as opium to
    produce a calm

    They tremble while they threaten

    They have believed me incapable because
    I was kind

    They loved not as you love, eh?

    This popular favor is a cup one must
    drink

    This was the Dauphin, afterward Louis
    XIV

    True talent paints life rather than the
    living

    Truth,  I here venture to distinguish
    from that of the True

    Urbain Grandier

    What use is the memory of facts, if not
    to serve as an example

    Woman is more bitter than death, and
    her arms are like chains

    Yes, we are in the way here

## M.M. AND BEBE, By Gustave Droz

    A ripe husband, ready to fall from the
    tree

    Affection is catching

    All babies are round, yielding, weak,
    timid, and soft

    And I shall say 'damn it,' for I shall
    then be grown up

    Answer "No," but with a little kiss
    which means "Yes"

    As regards love, intention and deed are
    the same

    But she thinks she is affording you
    pleasure

    Clumsily, blew his nose, to the great
    relief of his two arms

    Do not seek too much

    Emotion when one does not share it

    First impression is based upon a number
    of trifles

    He Would Have Been Forty Now

    Hearty laughter which men affect to
    assist digestion

    How many things have not people been
    proud of

    How rich we find ourselves when we
    rummage in old drawers

    Husband who loves you and eats off the
    same plate is better

    I would give two summers for a single
    autumn

    I do not accept the hypothesis of a
    world made for us

    I came here for that express purpose

    I am not wandering through life, I am
    marching on

    Ignorant of everything, undesirous of
    learning anything

    In his future arrange laurels for a
    little crown for your own

    It (science) dreams, too; it supposes

    It is silly to blush under certain
    circumstances

    Learned to love others by embracing
    their own children

    Life is not so sweet for us to risk
    ourselves in it singlehanded

    Love in marriage is, as a rule, too
    much at his ease

    Man is but one of the links of an
    immense chain

    Rather do not give—make yourself
    sought after

    Reckon yourself happy if in your
    husband you find a lover

    Recollection of past dangers to
    increase the present joy

    Respect him so that he may respect you

    Shelter himself in the arms of the weak
    and recover courage

    Sometimes like to deck the future in
    the garments of the past

    The heart requires gradual changes

    The future that is rent away

    The recollection of that moment lasts
    for a lifetime

    The future promises, it is the present
    that pays

    Their love requires a return

    There are pious falsehoods which the
    Church excuses

    Ties that unite children to parents are
    unloosed

    Ties which unite parents to children
    are broken

    To be able to smoke a cigar without
    being sick

    To love is a great deal—To know how to
    love is everything

    We are simple to this degree, that we
    do not think we are

    When time has softened your grief

    Why mankind has chosen to call marriage
    a man-trap

## MONSIEUR DE CAMORS, By Octave Feuillet

    A man never should kneel unless sure of
    rising a conqueror

    A defensive attitude is never agreeable
    to a man

    Bad to fear the opinion of people one
    despises

    Believing that it is for virtue's sake
    alone such men love them

    Camors refused, hesitated, made
    objections, and consented

    Confounding progress with discord,
    liberty with license

    Contempt for men is the beginning of
    wisdom

    Cried out, with the blunt candor of his
    age

    Dangers of liberty outweighed its
    benefits

    Demanded of him imperatively—the time
    of day

    Determined to cultivate ability rather
    than scrupulousness

    Disenchantment which follows possession

    Do not get angry.  Rarely laugh, and
    never weep

    Every one is the best judge of his own
    affairs

    Every road leads to Rome—and one as
    surely as another

    Every cause that is in antagonism with
    its age commits suicide

    God—or no principles!

    Have not that pleasure, it is useless
    to incur the penalties

    He is charming, for one always feels in
    danger near him

    Inconstancy of heart is the special
    attribute of man

    Intemperance of her zeal and the
    acrimony of her bigotry

    Knew her danger, and, unlike most of
    them, she did not love it

    Man, if he will it, need not grow old:
    the lion must

    Never can make revolutions with gloves
    on

    Once an excellent remedy, is a
    detestable regimen

    One of those pious persons who always
    think evil

    Pleasures of an independent code of
    morals

    Police regulations known as religion

    Principles alone, without faith in some
    higher sanction

    Property of all who are strong enough
    to stand it

    Put herself on good terms with God, in
    case He should exist

    'Semel insanivimus omnes.'  (every one
    has his madness)

    Slip forth from the common herd, my
    son, think for yourself

    Suspicion that he is a feeble human
    creature after all!

    There will be no more belief in Christ
    than in Jupiter

    Ties that become duties where we only
    sought pleasures

    Truth is easily found.  I shall read
    all the newspapers

    Two persons who desired neither to
    remember nor to forget

    Whether in this world one must be a
    fanatic or nothing

    Whole world of politics and religion
    rushed to extremes

    With the habit of thinking, had not
    lost the habit of laughing

    You can not make an omelette without
    first breaking the eggs

## THE RED LILY, By Anatole France

    A woman is frank when she does not lie
    uselessly

    A hero must be human.  Napoleon was
    human

    Anti-Semitism is making fearful
    progress everywhere

    Brilliancy of a fortune too new

    Curious to know her face of that day

    Disappointed her to escape the danger
    she had feared

    Do you think that people have not
    talked about us?

    Does not wish one to treat it with
    either timidity or brutality

    Does one ever possess what one loves?

    Each had regained freedom, but he did
    not like to be alone

    Each was moved with self-pity

    Everybody knows about that

    Fringe which makes an unlovely border
    to the city

    Gave value to her affability by not
    squandering it

    He could not imagine that often words
    are the same as actions

    He studied until the last moment

    He is not intelligent enough to doubt

    He does not bear ill-will to those whom
    he persecutes

    He knew now the divine malady of love

    Her husband had become quite bearable

    His habit of pleasing had prolonged his
    youth

    (Housemaid) is trained to respect my
    disorder

    I love myself because you love me

    I can forget you only when I am with
    you

    I wished to spoil our past

    I feel in them (churches) the grandeur
    of nothingness

    I have to pay for the happiness you
    give me

    I gave myself to him because he loved
    me

    I haven't a taste, I have tastes

    I have known things which I know no
    more

    I do not desire your friendship

    Ideas they think superior to love—
    faith, habits, interests

    Immobility of time

    Impatient at praise which was not
    destined for himself

    Incapable of conceiving that one might
    talk without an object

    It was torture for her not to be able
    to rejoin him

    It is an error to be in the right too
    soon

    It was too late: she did not wish to
    win

    Jealous without having the right to be
    jealous

    Kisses and caresses are the effort of
    a delightful despair

    Knew that life is not worth so much
    anxiety nor so much hope

    Laughing in every wrinkle of his face

    Learn to live without desire

    Let us give to men irony and pity as
    witnesses and judges

    Life as a whole is too vast and too
    remote

    Life is made up of just such trifles

    Life is not a great thing

    Little that we can do when we are
    powerful

    Love is a soft and terrible force, more
    powerful than beauty

    Love was only a brief intoxication

    Lovers never separate kindly

    Made life give all it could yield

    Magnificent air of those beggars of
    whom small towns are proud

    Miserable beings who contribute to the
    grandeur of the past

    Nobody troubled himself about that
    originality

    None but fools resisted the current

    Not everything is known, but everything
    is said

    Nothing is so legitimate, so human, as
    to deceive pain

    One would think that the wind would put
    them out: the stars

    One who first thought of pasting a
    canvas on a panel

    One is never kind when one is in love

    One should never leave the one whom one
    loves

    Picturesquely ugly

    Recesses of her mind which she
    preferred not to open

    Relatives whom she did not know and who
    irritated her

    Seemed to him that men were grains in a
    coffee-mill

    She pleased society by appearing to
    find pleasure in it

    She is happy, since she likes to
    remember

    Should like better to do an immoral
    thing than a cruel one

    Simple people who doubt neither
    themselves nor others

    Since she was in love, she had lost
    prudence

    So well satisfied with his reply that
    he repeated it twice

    Superior men sometimes lack cleverness

    That sort of cold charity which is
    called altruism

    That if we live the reason is that we
    hope

    That absurd and generous fury for
    ownership

    The most radical breviary of scepticism
    since Montaigne

    The door of one's room opens on the
    infinite

    The past is the only human reality—
    Everything that is, is past

    The one whom you will love and who will
    love you will harm you

    The violent pleasure of losing

    The discouragement which the
    irreparable gives

    The real support of a government is the
    Opposition

    The politician never should be in
    advance of circumstances

    There is nothing good except to ignore
    and to forget

    There are many grand and strong things
    which you do not feel

    They are the coffin saying: 'I am the
    cradle'

    To be beautiful, must a woman have that
    thin form

    Trying to make Therese admire what she
    did not know

    Umbrellas, like black turtles under the
    watery skies

    Unfortunate creature who is the
    plaything of life

    Was I not warned enough of the sadness
    of everything?

    We are too happy; we are robbing life

    What will be the use of having
    tormented ourselves in this world

    Whether they know or do not know, they
    talk

    Women do not always confess it, but it
    is always their fault

    You must take me with my own soul!

## ABBE CONSTANTIN, By Ludovic Halevey

    Ancient pillars of stone, embrowned and
    gnawed by time

    And they are shoulders which ought to
    be seen

    Believing themselves irresistible

    But she will give me nothing but money

    Duty, simply accepted and simply
    discharged

    Frenchman has only one real luxury—his
    revolutions

    God may have sent him to purgatory just
    for form's sake

    Great difference between dearly and
    very much

    Had not told all—one never does tell
    all

    He led the brilliant and miserable
    existence of the unoccupied

    If there is one! (a paradise)

    In order to make money, the first thing
    is to have no need of it

    Love and tranquillity seldom dwell at
    peace in the same heart

    Never foolish to spend money.  The
    folly lies in keeping it

    Often been compared to Eugene Sue, but
    his touch is lighter

    One half of his life belonged to the
    poor

    One may think of marrying, but one
    ought not to try to marry

    Succeeded in wearying him by her
    importunities and tenderness

    The women have enough religion for the
    men

    The history of good people is often
    monotonous or painful

    To learn to obey is the only way of
    learning to command

## CHRYSANTHEME, By Pierre Loti

    Ah! the natural perversity of inanimate
    things

    Contemptuous pity, both for my
    suspicions and the cause of them

    Dull hours spent in idle and diffuse
    conversation

    Efforts to arrange matters we succeed
    often only in disarranging

    Found nothing that answered to my
    indefinable expectations

    Habit turns into a makeshift of
    attachment

    I know not what lost home that I have
    failed to find

    Irritating laugh which is peculiar to
    Japan

    Japanese habit of expressing myself
    with excessive politeness

    Ordinary, trivial, every-day objects

    Prayers swallowed like pills by
    invalids at a distance

    Seeking for a change which can no
    longer be found

    Trees, dwarfed by a Japanese process

    When the inattentive spirits are not
    listening

    Which I should find amusing in any one
    else,—any one I loved

## CONSCIENCE, By Hector Malot

    As ignorant as a schoolmaster

    As free from prejudices as one may be,
    one always retains a few

    Confidence in one's self is strength,
    but it is also weakness

    Conscience is a bad weighing-machine

    Conscience is only an affair of
    environment and of education

    Find it more easy to make myself feared
    than loved

    For the rest of his life he would be
    the prisoner of his crime

    Force, which is the last word of the
    philosophy of life

    He did not sleep, so much the better!
    He would work more

    I believed in the virtue of work, and
    look at me!

    In his eyes everything was decided by
    luck

    Intelligent persons have no remorse

    It is the first crime that costs

    It is only those who own something who
    worry about the price

    Leant—and when I did not lose my
    friends I lost my money

    Leisure must be had for light reading,
    and even more for love

    Looking for a needle in a bundle of hay

    Neither so simple nor so easy as they
    at first appeared

    One does not judge those whom one loves

    People whose principle was never to pay
    a doctor

    Power to work, that was never disturbed
    or weakened by anything

    Reason before the deed, and not after

    Repeated and explained what he had
    already said and explained

    She could not bear contempt

    The strong walk alone because they need
    no one

    We are so unhappy that our souls are
    weak against joy

    We weep, we do not complain

    Will not admit that conscience is the
    proper guide of our action

    You love me, therefore you do not know
    me

## ZIBELINE, By Phillipe de Massa

    All that was illogical in our social
    code

    Ambiguity has no place, nor has
    compromise

    But if this is our supreme farewell,
    do not tell me so!

    Chain so light yesterday, so heavy
    to-day

    Every man is his own master in his
    choice of liaisons

    If I do not give all I give nothing

    Indulgence of which they stand in need
    themselves

    Life goes on, and that is less gay than
    the stories

    Men admired her; the women sought some
    point to criticise

    Only a man, wavering and changeable

    Ostensibly you sit at the feast without
    paying the cost

    Paris has become like a little country
    town in its gossip

    The night brings counsel

    Their Christian charity did not extend
    so far as that

    There are mountains that we never climb
    but once

    You are in a conquered country, which
    is still more dangerous

## THE CHILD OF A CENTURY, By Alfred de Musset

    A terrible danger lurks in the
    knowledge of what is possible

    Accustomed to call its disguise virtue

    Adieu, my son, I love you and I die

    All philosophy is akin to atheism

    All that is not life, it is the noise
    of life

    And when love is sure of itself and
    knows response

    Because you weep, you fondly imagine
    yourself innocent

    Become corrupt, and you will cease to
    suffer

    Began to forget my own sorrow in my
    sympathy for her

    Beware of disgust, it is an incurable
    evil

    Can any one prevent a gossip

    Cold silence, that negative force

    Contrive to use proud disdain as a
    shield

    Death is more to be desired than a
    living distaste for life

    Despair of a man sick of life, or the
    whim of a spoiled child

    Do they think they have invented what
    they see

    Each one knows what the other is about
    to say

    Fool who destroys his own happiness

    Force itself, that mistress of the
    world

    Funeral processions are no longer
    permitted

    Galileo struck the earth, crying:
    "Nevertheless it moves!"

    Good and bad days succeeded each other
    almost regularly

    Great sorrows neither accuse nor
    blaspheme—they listen

    Grief itself was for her but a means of
    seducing

    Happiness of being pursued

    He who is loved by a beautiful woman is
    sheltered from every blow

    He lives only in the body

    How much they desire to be loved who
    say they love no more

    Human weakness seeks association

    I can not be near you and separated
    from you at the same moment

    I can not love her, I can not love
    another

    I boasted of being worse than I really
    was

    I neither love nor esteem sadness

    I do not intend either to boast or
    abase myself

    Ignorance into which the Greek clergy
    plunged the laity

    In what do you believe?

    Indignation can solace grief and
    restore happiness

    Is he a dwarf or a giant

    Is it not enough to have lived?

    It is a pity that you must seek
    pastimes

    Make a shroud of your virtue in which
    to bury your crimes

    Man who suffers wishes to make her whom
    he loves suffer

    Men doubted everything: the young men
    denied everything

    No longer esteemed her highly enough to
    be jealous of her

    Of all the sisters of love, the most
    beautiful is pity

    Perfection does not exist

    Pure caprice that I myself mistook for
    a flash of reason

    Quarrel had been, so to speak, less sad
    than our reconciliation

    Reading the Memoirs of Constant

    Resorted to exaggeration in order to
    appear original

    Sceptic regrets the faith he has lost
    the power to regain

    Seven  who are always the same: the
    first is called hope

    She pretended to hope for the best

    Sometimes we seem to enjoy unhappiness

    "Speak to me of your love," she said,
    "not of your grief"

    St. Augustine

    Suffered, and yet took pleasure in it

    Suspicions that are ever born anew

    Terrible words; I deserve them, but
    they will kill me

    There are two different men in you

    Ticking of which (our arteries) can be
    heard only at night

    "Unhappy man!"  she cried, "you will
    never know how to love"

    We have had a mass celebrated, and it
    cost us a large sum

    What you take for love is nothing more
    than desire

    What human word will ever express thy
    slightest caress

    When passion sways man, reason follows
    him weeping and warning

    Who has told you that tears can wash
    away the stains of guilt

    Wine suffuses the face as if to prevent
    shame appearing there

    You believe in what is said here below
    and not in what is done

    You play with happiness as a child
    plays with a rattle

    You turn the leaves of dead books

    Your great weapon is silence

    Youth is to judge of the world from
    first impressions

## SERGE PANINE, By George Ohnet

    A man weeps with difficulty before a woman

    A uniform is the only garb which can hide
    poverty honorably

    Antagonism to plutocracy and hatred of
    aristocrats

    Because they moved, they thought they were
    progressing

    Cowardly in trouble as he had been insolent
    in prosperity

    Enough to be nobody's unless I belong to him

    Even those who do not love her desire to
    know her

    Everywhere was feverish excitement, dissipation,
    and nullity

    Flayed and roasted alive by the critics

    Forget a dream and accept a reality

    Hard workers are pitiful lovers

    He lost his time, his money, his hair, his
    illusions

    He was very unhappy at being misunderstood

    Heed that you lose not in dignity what you gain
    in revenge

    I thought the best means of being loved were
    to deserve it

    I don't pay myself with words

    Implacable self-interest which is the law of
    the world

    In life it is only nonsense that is
    common-sense

    Is a man ever poor when he has two arms?

    Is it by law only that you wish to keep me?

    It was a relief when they rose from the table

    Men of pleasure remain all their lives
    mediocre workers

    Money troubles are not mortal

    My aunt is jealous of me because I am a
    man of ideas

    Negroes, all but monkeys!

    Nothing that provokes laughter more than a
    disappointed lover

    One amuses one's self at the risk of dying

    Patience, should he encounter a dull page
    here or there

    Romanticism still ferments beneath the
    varnish of Naturalism

    Sacrifice his artistic leanings to popular
    caprice

    Scarcely was one scheme launched when another
    idea occurred

    She would have liked the world to be in mourning

    Suffering is a human law; the world is an arena

    Talk with me sometimes.  You will not chatter
    trivialities

    The guilty will not feel your blows, but the
    innocent

    The uncontested power which money brings

    They had only one aim, one passion—to enjoy
    themselves

    Unqualified for happiness

    We had taken the dream of a day for eternal
    happiness

    What is a man who remains useless

    Without a care or a cross, he grew weary
    like a prisoner

    You are talking too much about it to be
    sincere

## AN "ATTIC" PHILOSOPHER, By Emile Souvestre

    Always to mistake feeling for evidence

    Ambroise Pare: 'I tend him, God cures
    him!'

    Are we then bound to others only by the
    enforcement of laws

    Attach a sense of remorse to each of my
    pleasures

    Brought them up to poverty

    But above these ruins rises a calm and
    happy face

    Carn-ival means, literally, "farewell
    to flesh!"

    Coffee is the grand work of a
    bachelor's housekeeping

    Contemptuous pride of knowledge

    Death, that faithful friend of the
    wretched

    Defeat and victory only displace each
    other by turns

    Did not think the world was so great

    Do they understand what makes them so
    gay?

    Each of us regards himself as the
    mirror of the community

    Ease with which the poor forget their
    wretchedness

    Every one keeps his holidays in his own
    way

    Fame and power are gifts that are
    dearly bought

    Favorite and conclusive answer of his
    class—"I know"

    Fear of losing a moment from business

    Finishes his sin thoroughly before he
    begins to repent

    Fortune sells what we believe she gives

    Her kindness, which never sleeps

    Houses are vessels which take mere
    passengers

    Hubbub of questions which waited for no
    reply

    I make it a rule never to have any hope

    Ignorant of what there is to wish for

    Looks on an accomplished duty neither
    as a merit nor a grievance

    Make himself a name:  he becomes public
    property

    Moderation is the great social virtue

    More stir than work

    My patronage has become her property

    No one is so unhappy as to have nothing
    to give

    Not desirous to teach goodness

    Nothing is dishonorable which is useful

    Our tempers are like an opera-glass

    Poverty, you see, is a famous
    schoolmistress

    Power of necessity

    Prisoners of work

    Progress can never be forced on without
    danger

    Question is not to discover what will
    suit us

    Richer than France herself, for I have
    no deficit in my budget

    Ruining myself, but we must all have
    our Carnival

    Satisfy our wants, if we know how to
    set bounds to them

    Sensible man, who has observed much and
    speaks little

    So much confidence at first, so much
    doubt at las

    Sullen tempers are excited by the
    patience of their victims

    The happiness of the wise man costs but
    little

    The man in power gives up his peace

    Two thirds of human existence are
    wasted in hesitation

    Virtue made friends, but she did not
    take pupils

    We do not understand that others may
    live on their own account

    We are not bound to live, while we are
    bound to do our duty

    What have you done with the days God
    granted you

    What a small dwelling joy can live

    You may know the game by the lair

## A WOODLAND QUEEN, By Andre Theuriet

    Accustomed to hide what I think

    Amusements they offered were either
    wearisome or repugnant

    Consoled himself with one of the pious
    commonplaces

    Dreaded the monotonous regularity of
    conjugal life

    Fawning duplicity

    Had not been spoiled by Fortune's gifts

    How small a space man occupies on the
    earth

    Hypocritical grievances

    I am not in the habit of consulting the
    law

    I measure others by myself

    It does not mend matters to give way
    like that

    Like all timid persons, he took refuge
    in a moody silence

    More disposed to discover evil than
    good

    Nature's cold indifference to our
    sufferings

    Never is perfect happiness our lot

    Opposing his orders with steady,
    irritating inertia

    Others found delight in the most
    ordinary amusements

    Plead the lie to get at the truth

    Sensitiveness and disposition to
    self-blame

    The ease with which he is forgotten

    There are some men who never have had
    any childhood

    Those who have outlived their illusions

    Timidity of a night-bird that is made
    to fly in the day

    To make a will  is to put one foot into
    the grave

    Toast and white wine (for breakfast)

    Vague hope came over him that all would
    come right

    Vexed, act in direct contradiction to
    their own wishes

    Women: they are more bitter than death

    Yield to their customs, and not
    pooh-pooh their amusements

    You have considerable patience for a
    lover

    You must be pleased with yourself—that
    is more essential

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