George Sand, pen name for Amandine Lucte Aurore Dupin, Baronne Dudevant

Sand, pen name for Amandine Lucte Aurore Dupin, Baronne Dudevant

French Writer, Memoirist and Novelist

Author Quotes

A day will come when everything in my life will be changed, when I shall do good to others, when someone will love me, when I shall give my whole heart to the man which gives me his; meanwhile, you will suffer in silence and keep my love as a reward for him who shall set me free.

Fame and admiration weigh not a feather in the scale against friendship and love, for the heart languishes all the same.

I was born to love - but none of you wanted to believe it, and that misunderstanding was crucial in forming my character. It's true that nature was strangely inconsistent in giving me a warm heart, but also a face that was like a stone mask and a tongue that was heavy and slow. She refused me what she bestowed freely on even the most loutish of my fellow men… People judged my inner character by my outer covering, and like a sterile fruit, I withered under the rough husk I couldn't slough off.

Let us leave political questions to be decided by the powers concerned, Sir Ralph would say, as we have adopted a form of government which forbids us to discuss our interests ourselves. If a nation is responsible for the faults of its legislature, what one can you find that is guiltier than yours?

O heart! love is thy bane and thy antidote.

The prayers of a lover are more imperious than the menaces of the whole world.

Where love is absent, there can be no woman.

A man is not a wall, whose stones are crushed upon the road; or a pipe, whose fragments are thrown away at a street corner. The fragments of an intellect are always good.

God abandons only those who abandon themselves, and whoever has the courage to shut up his sorrow within his own heart is stronger to fight against it than he who complains.

If they are ignorant, they are despised, if learned, mocked. In love they are reduced to the status of courtesans. As wives they are treated more as servants than as companions. Men do not love them: they make use of them, they exploit them, and expect, in that way, to make them subject to the law of fidelity.

Let us see a true-hearted man crushing that vermin called vice, braving that luxury, scorning with easy and simple logic the silly vanity which induces men to appear strong in absurdity and powerful in the abuse of life ... such vanity is always punished by nature, which vindicates its rights.

Once my heart was captured, reason was shown the door, deliberately and with a sort of frantic joy. I accepted everything, I believed everything, without struggle, without suffering, without regret, without false shame. How can one blush for what one adores?

The smoke of glory is not worth the smoke of a pipe.

Whoever has loved knows all that life contains of sorrow and joy.

A sweet voice, a little indistinct and muffled, which caresses and does not thrill; an utterance which glides on without emphasis, and lays stress on what is deeply felt.

God has written in the law of nature that when two people are joined in love or friendship, one must always give his heart more perfectly than the other.

I'm beginning to believe that there are angels disguised as men who pass themselves off as such and who inhabit the earth for a while to console and lift up with them toward heaven the poor, exhausted and saddened souls who were ready to perish here below.

Life is a long ache which rarely sleeps and can never be cured.

One changes from day to day, and ... after a few years have passed one has completely altered.

The trade of authorship is a violent and indestructible obsession.

Women love always: when earth slips from them, they take refuge in heaven.

A woman cannot love a man she feels to be her inferior; love without veneration and enthusiasm is only friendship.

Happiness lies in the consciousness we have of it, and by no means in the way the future keeps its promises.

I'm not full of virtues and noble qualities. I love, but I love strongly, exclusive, steadfastly.

Life often looks like a novel than a novel is like life.

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Sand, pen name for Amandine Lucte Aurore Dupin, Baronne Dudevant
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French Writer, Memoirist and Novelist