French Short-Story Writer and Novelist
Guy de Maupassant, fully Henri Rene Albert Guy de Maupassant
French Short-Story Writer and Novelist
The past attracts me, the present frightens me, because the future is death.
This was the first living creature I Had ever loved passionately, Because He returned my affection. My love for the animal was, no doubt, exaggerated and ridiculous. I has that vague idea in some way we were brothers, both, lost in life, both, lonely and defenseless. He never left me, slept at foot of my bed, was fed in the dining-room in Spite of my relatives' protests and he came with me on my solitary walks.
You've never lived until you've almost died. For those who have fought for it, life has a flavor the protected shall never know.
The same thing happens whenever the established order of things is upset, when security no longer exists, when all those rights usually protected by the law of man or of Nature are at the mercy of unreasoning, savage force. The earthquake crushing a whole nation under falling roofs; the flood let loose, and engulfing in its swirling depths the corpses of drowned peasants, along with dead oxen and beams torn from shattered houses; or the army, covered with glory, murdering those who defend themselves, making prisoners of the rest, pillaging in the name of the Sword, and giving thanks to God to the thunder of cannon ? all these are appalling scourges, which destroy all belief in eternal justice, all that confidence we have been taught to feel in the protection of Heaven and the reason of man.
To avoid each other, their eyes had developed an amazing mobility with all the cunning of enemies fearful of meeting each other head on.
The secret is not to betray your ignorance. Just maneuver, avoid the quicksands and obstacles, and the rest can be found in a dictionary.
Truly, a man without a mustache is not a man.
The simplest of women are wonderful liars who can extricate themselves from the most difficult dilemmas with a skill bordering on genius.
War! When I but think of this word, I feel bewildered, as though they were speaking to me of sorcery, of the Inquisition, of a distant, finished, abominable, monstrous, unnatural thing. When they speak to us of cannibals, we smile proudly, as we proclaim our superiority to these savages. Who are the real savages? Those who struggle in order to eat those whom they vanquish, or those who struggle merely to kill?
A life! Few days and then nothing! We are born, we grow, we are happy, we are waiting, and then you die.
But as he felt an infinite worth to discover ideas, he took the specialty declamations on the decadence of morals on lowering characters, the collapse of patriotism and anemia of French honor. (He found the word anemia of which he was proud.)
For the first time, Duroy thought of all that in her past was hidden and began to speculate. Obviously she'd already had lovers, but what sort they were and what kind of society did they come from? A vague jealousy, a sort of hostility against her, stirred in him, year hostility directed against everything that he did not know about her, all that part of her feelings and life which did not belong to him. He looked at her, irritated by the secrets hidden in that pretty, silent little head, which perhaps at that very moment was thinking with regret of another man, of other men. How he would have liked to peer into her memories, them explore and learn all there was to know about them
I hope you realize that you really hit it off with the ladies? You must cultivate that. It could take you far.
It is love that is sacred, she said. Listen, child, to an old woman who has seen three generations, and who has had a long experience of men and women. Marriage and love have nothing in common. We marry to found a family, and we form families in order to constitute society. Society cannot dispense with marriage. If society is a chain, each family is a link in that chain. In order to weld those links, we always seek metals of the same order. When we marry, we must bring together suitable conditions; we must combine fortunes, unite similar races and aim at the common interest, which is riches and children. We marry only once, my child, because the world requires us to do so, but we love twenty times in one lifetime because nature has made us like this. Marriage, you see, is law and love is an instinct which impels us, sometimes along a straight, and sometimes along a devious path. The world has made laws to combat our instincts- it was necessary to make them; but our instincts are always stronger, and we ought not to resist them too much, because they come from God; while laws come from men. If we did not perfume life with love, as much love as possible, darling, as we put sugar into drugs for children, nobody would care to take it just as it is.
Mathilde suffered ceaselessly, feeling herself born to enjoy all delicacies and all luxuries.
Since governments take the right of death over their people, it is not astonishing if the people should sometimes take the right of death over governments.
A listener would have thought at last that the one role of woman on earth was a perpetual sacrifice of her person, a continual abandonment of herself to the caprices of a hostile soldiery.
But he asked himself now if he would not be disobeying God. And does not God permit love, since He surrounds it with such visible splendor?
For the same sensation reappears whenever the established order of things is reversed, that security does not exist, that all laws protecting men are those of nature, is to thank you for an unconscious brutality and fierce.
I know nothing more enjoyable than that happy-go-lucky wandering life, in which you are perfectly free; without shackles of any kind, without care, without preoccupation, without thought even of to-morrow. You go in any direction you please, without any guide save your fancy.
It is the encounters with people that make life worth living.
Military men are the scourges of the world.
Solitude is dangerous for active minds. We need men who can think and can talk, around us. When we are alone for a long time, we people space with phantoms.
A man in love is removed from the list of the living. Devine idiot, not only stupid, but dangerous. Switches, men love me or at least pretend to be any close relationship, first because I get bored, then that becomes suspect, as a rabid dog that may have a crisis. He therefore move in moral quarantine until it heals. Do not forget that. I know very well that you, love is just a kind of lust, while to me it is, instead, a sort of communion of souls, which is not part of the religion of men. You understand the point, and I spirit.
But keep in remembrance, in the coming days, it was more than a memory, was a kind of sense of this unreal and persistent that woman. It seemed that he had taken part in it, her body image kept in his eyes and savor her moral being kept in his heart. Stay obsession with image, as happens sometimes when you spend hours on end with someone full of delight. It says that you are under the spell of a strange famed intimate puzzled, and subtly disturbing because it is full of mystery.