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