0dalisquebrune > 0dalisquebrune's Quotes

“What of Art?
-It is a malady.
--Love?
-An Illusion.
--Religion?
-The fashionable substitute for Belief.
--You are a sceptic.
-Never! Scepticism is the beginning of Faith.
--What are you?
-To define is to limit.”
― Oscar Wilde , The Picture of Dorian Gray

“I may never be happy, but tonight I am content. Nothing more than an empty house, the warm hazy weariness from a day spent setting strawberry runners in the sun, a glass of cool sweet milk, and a shallow dish of blueberries bathed in cream. When one is so tired at the end of a day one must sleep, and at the next dawn there are more strawberry runners to set, and so one goes on living, near the earth. At times like this I'd call myself a fool to ask for more...”
― Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

“Do you think I am an automaton? — a machine without feelings? and can bear to have my morsel of bread snatched from my lips, and my drop of living water dashed from my cup? Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong! — I have as much soul as you — and full as much heart! And if God had gifted me with some beauty and much wealth, I should have made it as hard for you to leave me, as it is now for me to leave you. I am not talking to you now through the medium of custom, conventionalities, nor even of mortal flesh: it is my spirit that addresses your spirit; just as if both had passed through the grave, and we stood at God's feet, equal — as we are!”
― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

“Every atom of your flesh is as dear to me as my own: in pain and sickness it would still be dear.”
― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

“That afternoon my mother had brought me the roses.
"Save them for my funeral," I'd said.”
― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

“Mademoiselle is a fairy," he said, whispering mysteriously.”
― Charlotte Bronte, Jane Eyre

“N'aie pas peur de mes paroles: une morte ne veut plus rien, elle ne veut ni amour, ni pitié, ni réconfort.”
― Stefan Zweig, Letter from an Unknown Woman and Other Stories

“I confess that neither the structure of language, nor the code of governments, nor the politics of various states possessed attractions for me. It was the secrets of heaven and earth that I desired to learn; and whether it was the outward substance of things or the inner spirit of nature and the mysterious soul of man that occupied me, still my inquiries were directed to the metaphysical, or in its highest sense, the physical secrets of the world.”
― Mary Shelley

“C’est horrible de vivre une époque ou au mot sentiment, on vous répond sentimentalisme. Il faudra bien pourtant qu’un jour vienne où l’affectivité sera reconnue comme le plus grand des sentiments et rejettera l’intellect dominateur.”
― Romain Gary

“Tristesses de la Lune

Ce soir, la lune rêve avec plus de paresse ;
Ainsi qu’une beauté, sur de nombreux coussins,
Qui d’une main distraite et légère caresse
Avant de s’endormir le contour de ses seins,

Sur le dos satiné des molles avalanches,
Mourante, elle se livre aux longues pâmoisons,
Et promène ses yeux sur les visions blanches
Qui montent dans l’azur comme des floraisons.

Quand parfois sur ce globe, en sa langueur oisive,
Elle laisse filer une larme furtive,
Un poète pieux, ennemi du sommeil,

Dans le creux de sa main prend cette larme pâle,
Aux reflets irisés comme un fragment d’opale,
Et la met dans son coeur loin des yeux du soleil.”
― Charles Baudelaire, Les Fleurs du Mal

“Toute la poésie cachée qui était en moi s'est réveillée, dans la chaude lumière de ce radieux paysage, je sentais une émotion inconnue m'agiter, c'était le papillon de l'âme qui s'éveillait au fond de sa chrysalide et qui sentait palpiter ses ailes.”
― Renée Vivien

“Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind; And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind. Nor hath love's mind of any judgment taste; Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste: And therefore is love said to be a child, Because in choice he is so oft beguil'd.”
― William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night’s Dream

“Quand il allume son réverbère, c'est comme s'il faisait naître une étoile de plus, ou une fleur. Quand il éteint son réverbère, ça endort la fleur ou l'étoile. C'est une occupation très jolie. C'est véritablement utile puisque c'est joli.”
― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, Le Petit Prince - Avec des aquarelles de l'auteur

“Go into yourself. Find out the reason that commands you to write; see whether it has spread its roots into the very depths of your heart; confess to yourself whether you would have to die if you were forbidden to write.

This most of all: ask yourself in the most silent hour of your night: must I write? Dig into yourself for a deep answer. And if this answer rings out in assent, if you meet this solemn question with a strong, simple “I must,” then build your life in accordance with this necessity; your whole life, even into its humblest and most indifferent hour, must become a sign and witness to this impulse. Then come close to Nature. Then, as if no one had ever tried before, try to say what you see and feel and love and lose...

...Describe your sorrows and desires, the thoughts that pass through your mind and your belief in some kind of beauty - describe all these with heartfelt, silent, humble sincerity and, when you express yourself, use the Things around you, the images from your dreams, and the objects that you remember. If your everyday life seems poor, don’t blame it; blame yourself; admit to yourself that you are not enough of a poet to call forth its riches; because for the creator there is not poverty and no poor, indifferent place. And even if you found yourself in some prison, whose walls let in none of the world’s sounds – wouldn’t you still have your childhood, that jewel beyond all price, that treasure house of memories? Turn your attentions to it. Try to raise up the sunken feelings of this enormous past; your personality will grow stronger, your solitude will expand and become a place where you can live in the twilight, where the noise of other people passes by, far in the distance. - And if out of this turning-within, out of this immersion in your own world, poems come, then you will not think of asking anyone whether they are good or not. Nor will you try to interest magazines in these works: for you will see them as your dear natural possession, a piece of your life, a voice from it. A work of art is good if it has arisen out of necessity. That is the only way one can judge it.”
― Rainer Maria Rilke

“Le cinéma, c'est l'écriture moderne dont l'encre est la lumière.”
― Jean Cocteau

“J'aimais les peintures idiotes, dessus de portes, décors, toiles de saltimbanques, enseignes, enluminures populaires ; la littérature démodée, latin d'église, livres érotiques sans orthographe, romans de nos aïeules, contes de fées, petits livres de l'enfance, opéras vieux, refrains niais, rythmes naïfs.”
― Arthur Rimbaud, Une saison en enfer suivi de Illuminations et autres textes

“If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.”
― Jane Austen, Emma

“The lunatic, the lover, and the poet
Are of imagination all compact:
One sees more devils than vast hell can hold,
That is, the madman: the lover, all as frantic,
Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt:
The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling,
Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven,
And as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen
Turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation and a name.”
― William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night’s Dream

“But a mermaid has no tears, and therefore she suffers so much more.”
― Hans Christian Andersen, The Little Mermaid

“He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”
― Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights

“Do not swear by the moon, for she changes constantly. then your love would also change.”
― William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

“What's in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet.”
― William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

“If I profane with my unworthiest hand
This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this:
My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.

Juliet:
Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,
Which mannerly devotion shows in this;
For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch,
And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.

Romeo:
Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?

Juliet:
Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.

Romeo:
O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do;
They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.

Juliet:
Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.

Romeo:
Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take.
Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged.

Juliet:
Then have my lips the sin that they have took.

Romeo:
Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged!
Give me my sin again.

Juliet:
You kiss by the book.”
― William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

“I am a dreamer. I know so little of real life that I just can’t help re-living such moments as these in my dreams, for such moments are something I have very rarely experienced. I am going to dream about you the whole night, the whole week, the whole year.”
― Fyodor Dostoyevsky, White Nights

“Un baiser, mais à tout prendre, qu'est-ce?
Un serment fait d'un peu plus près, une promesse
Plus précise, un aveu qui peut se confirmer,
Un point rose qu'on met sur l'i du verbe aimer;
C'est un secret qui prend la bouche pour oreille,
Un instant d'infini qui fait un bruit d'abeille,
Une communion ayant un goût de fleur,
Une façon d'un peu se respirer le coeur,
Et d'un peu se goûter au bord des lèvres, l'âme!”
― Edmond Rostand, Cyrano de Bergerac

“Impossible, Monsieur ; mon sang se coagule
En pensant qu’on y peut changer une virgule.”
― Edmond Rostand, Cyrano de Bergerac

“Tu marcheras, j'irai dans l'ombre à ton côté : je serai ton esprit, tu seras ma beauté.”
― Edmond Rostand, Cyrano de Bergerac

“I had a feeling that Pandora's box contained the mysteries of woman's sensuality, so different from a man's and for which man's language was so inadequate. The language of sex had yet to be invented. The language of the senses was yet to be explored.”
― Anaïs Nin, Delta of Venus

“Je sentis frissonner sur mes lèvres muettes la douceur et l'effroi de ton premier baiser. Sous tes pas, j'entendis les lyres se briser, en criant vers le ciel l'ennui fier des poètes, parmi des flots de sons languissamment décrus.”
― Renée Vivien, Poems De Renee Vivien

“Le souvenir

Ô délire d'une heure auprès de lui passée,
Reste dans ma pensée !
Par toi tout le bonheur que m'offre l'avenir
Est dans mon souvenir.

Je ne m'expose plus à le voir, à l'entendre,
Je n'ose plus l'attendre,
Et si je puis encor supporter l'avenir,
C'est par le souvenir.

Le temps ne viendra pas pour guérir ma souffrance,
Je n'ai plus d'espérance ;
Mais je ne voudrais pas, pour tout mon avenir,
Perdre le souvenir !”
― Marceline Desbordes-Valmore, Poésies