This eBook was produced by David Widger 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 Kissses 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! If you wish to read the entire context of any of these quotations, select a short segment and copy it into your clipboard memory--then open the appropriate eBook and paste the phrase into your computer's find or search operation.