I’m dazzled by your facility. In ten days you’ll have written six stories! I don’t understand it… I’m like one of those old aqueducts: there’s so much rubbish cogging up the banks of my thought that it flows slowly, and only spills from the end of my pen drop by drop.
Gustave FlaubertNever have things of the spirit counted for so little. Never has hatred for everything great been so manifest – disdain for Beauty, execration of literature. I have always tried to live in an ivory tower, but a tide of shit is beating at its walls, threatening to undermine it.
Gustave FlaubertStichwörter: words reading books beauty literature values
Books aren’t made in the way that babies are: they are made like pyramids, There’s some long-pondered plan, and then great blocks of stone are placed one on top of the other, and it’s back-breaking, sweaty, time consuming work. And all to no purpose! It just stands like that in the desert! But it towers over it prodigiously. Jackals piss at the base of it, and bourgeois clamber to the top of it, etc. Continue this comparison.
Gustave FlaubertStichwörter: books writing writers creativity
If you participate in life, you don’t see it clearly: you suffer from it too much or enjoy it too much. The artist, to my way of thinking, is a monstrosity, something outside nature. All the misfortunes Providence inflicts on him come from his stubborness in denying that maxim.
Gustave FlaubertThe whole dream of democracy is to raise the proletariat to the level of stupidity attained by the bourgeoisie.
Gustave FlaubertStichwörter: politics democracy
The artist must manage to make posterity believe that he never existed.
Gustave FlaubertStichwörter: art writing writers artists
Sadness is a vice.
Gustave FlaubertStichwörter: sadness
People believe a little too easily that the function of the sun is to help the cabbages along.
Gustave FlaubertStichwörter: nature
From time to time, I open a newspaper. Things seem to be proceeding at a dizzying rate. We are dancing not on the edge of a volcano, but on the wooden seat of a latrine, and it seems to me more than a touch rotten. Soon society will go plummeting down and drown in nineteen centuries of shit. There’ll be quite a lot of shouting. (1850)
Gustave FlaubertStichwörter: life history humanity mankind
As humanity perfects itself, man becomes degraded. When everything is reduced to the mere counter-balancing of economic interests, what room will there be for virtue? When Nature has been so subjugated that she has lost all her original forms, where will that leave the plastic arts? And so on. In the mean time, things are going to get very murky.
Gustave FlaubertStichwörter: life money art nature capitalism virtue mankind humnaity
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