November Quotes

“Are the days of winter sunshine just as sad for you, too? When it is misty, in the evenings, and I am out walking by myself, it seems to me that the rain is falling through my heart and causing it to crumble into ruins.”
― Gustave Flaubert, November

“Everyone, either from modesty or egotism, hides away the best and most delicate of his soul’s possessions; to gain the esteem of others, we must only ever show our ugliest sides; this is how we keep ourselves on the common level”
― Gustave Flaubert, November

“I tried to discover, in the rumor of forests and waves, words that other men could not hear, and I pricked up my ears to listen to the revelation of their harmony.”
― Gustave Flaubert, November

“He had the vanity to believe men did not like him – while men simply did not know him.”
― Gustave Flaubert, November

“He seriously thought that there is less harm in killing a man than producing a child: in the first case you are relieving someone of life, not his whole life but a half or a quarter or a hundredth part of that existence that is going to finish, that would finish without you; but as for the second, he would say, are you not responsible to him for all the tears he will shed, from the cradle to the grave? Without you he would never have been born, and why is he born? For your amusement, not for his, that’s for sure; to carry your name, the name of a fool, I’ll be bound – you may as well write that name on some wall; why do you need a man to bear the burden of three or four letters?”
― Gustave Flaubert, November

“You need a high degree of corruption or a very big heart to love absolutely everything”
― Gustave Flaubert, November

“Maybe happiness too is a metaphor invented on a day of boredom”
― Gustave Flaubert, November

“It would have been better to do what everyone else does, neither taking life too seriously nor seeing it as merely grotesque, choosing a profession and practicing it, grabbing one's share of the common cake, eating it and saying, "It's delicious!" rather than following the gloomy path that I have trodden all alone; then I wouldn’t be here writing this, or at least it would have been a different story. The further I proceed with it, the more confused it seems even to me, like hazy prospects seen from too far away, since everything passes, even the memory of our most scalding tears and our heartiest laughter; our eyes soon dry, our mouths resume their habitual shape; the only memory that remains to me is that of a long tedious time that lasted for several winters, spent in yawning and wishing I were dead”
― Gustave Flaubert, November

“We think of women at every age: while still children, we fondle with a naïve sensuality the breasts of those grown-up girls kissing us and cuddling us in their arms; at the age of ten, we dream of love; at fifteen, love comes along; at sixty, it is still with us, and if dead men in their tombs have any thought in their heads, it is how to make their way underground to the nearby grave, lift the shroud of the dear departed women, and mingle with her in her sleep”
― Gustave Flaubert, November

“At other times, at the edge of a wood, especially at dusk, the trees themselves would assume strange shapes: sometimes they were arms rising heavenwards, , or else the trunk would twist and turn like a body being bent by the wind. At night, when I woke up and the moon and the stars were out, I would see in the sky things that filled me simultaneously with dread and longing. I remember that once, one Christmas Eve, I saw a great naked women, standing erect, with rolling eyes; she must have been a hundred feet high, but along she drifted, growing ever longer and ever thinner, and finally fell apart, each limb remaining separate, with the head floating away first as the rest of her body continued to waver”
― Gustave Flaubert, November

“There comes a point at which you stop writing and think all the more”
― Gustave Flaubert, November

“With a little more time, patience, and hard work, and above all with a more sensitive taste for the formal aspects of arts, he would have managed to write mediocre poetry, good enough for a lady’s album – and this is always a gallant thing to do, whatever you may say.”
― Gustave Flaubert, November

“Od svega ovoga što sledi niko ništa nije znao, i oni koji su me svakog dana viđali nisu znali ništa više od drugih; bili su, u odnosu na mene, kao postelja u kojoj spavam i koja ne zna moje snove. A usotalom, zar ljudsko srce nije ogromno samovanje u koje niko ne može da prodre?”
― Gustave Flaubert , November

“Je suis né avec le désir de mourir.”
― Gustave Flaubert, November

“In his earliest youth, he had drawn inspiration from really bad authors, as you may have seen from his style; as he grew older, he lost his taste for them, but the excellent authors just didn’t fill him with the same enthusiasm”
― Gustave Flaubert, November

“Ja volim jesen, to je žalosno godišnje doba kao stvoreno za uspomene. Kada stabla više nemaju lišće, kada nebo zadržava još i u sutonu riđu šaru koja pozlaćuje uvelu travu, slatko je gledati gdje se gasi sve ono što je još nedavno gorjelo u vama.”
― Gustave Flaubert, November

“Međutim, ako brojim godine, nije tome davno što sam se rodio, ali imam brojne uspomene koje osjećam kako me tište, kao što tište starce svi dani što su ih proživjeli; čini mi se katkada da sam trajao dugim stoljećima, i da moje biće sadržava u sebi ostatke od tisuću prošlih života.”
― Gustave Flaubert, November

“A veces recordamos durante siglos cierto momento que ya no volverá, que ha pasado, que está en la nada para siempre, y por el que pagaríamos en prenda todo nuestro futuro”
― Gustave Flaubert, November

“Jao onome tko nije poželio srdžbe iz tragedija, tko ne zna napamet ljubavne strofe da ih ponavlja na mjesečni! Lijepo je živjeti tako u vječitoj ljepoti, odijevati se poput kraljeva, gajiti strasti u njihovu najviše obliku, ljubiti ljubavlju koju je genij ovjekovječio.”
― Gustave Flaubert, November