A man like you is a god, not just a machine covered with skin, but a theater where fine feelings sprout and grow-and feelings are all that matters, as far as I'm concerned. Is a feeling anything but an entire world poured into a thought?
Honoré de BalzacStichwörter: emotion feeling senzitive
A ignorância é a mãe de todos os crimes, porque um crime é, antes de mais, uma falta de raciocínio.
Honoré de BalzacStichwörter: crime ignorância
Épouses nous sommes trahies. Amantes, nous sommes délaissées.
Honoré de BalzacEs mucho más fácil quedar bien como amante que como marido; porque es mucho mas fácil ser oportuno e ingenioso de vez en cuando que todos los días
Honoré de BalzacWhen women love us, they forgive us everything, even our crimes; when they do not love us, they give us credit for nothing, not even our virtues.
Honoré de BalzacLa femme mariée est une esclave qu'il faut savoir mettre sur un trône.
Honoré de BalzacStichwörter: marriage mysogyny gender-inequality
Das war die Frau mit ihren plötzlichen Ängsten, ihren grundlosen Launen, ihren unwillkürlichen Verwirrungen, ihren unmotivierten Kühnheiten, ihren Wagnissen und ihrer reizenden Zartheit der Gefühle.
Honoré de BalzacStichwörter: frau
Affreuse condition de l'homme ! Il n'y a pas un de ses bonheurs qui ne vienne d'une ignorance quelconque.
Honoré de BalzacA valley full of genuine suffering, and of joys that often turn out to be false, and so incredibly tumultuous that it takes something God only knows how outrageous to cause a lasting stir. But here and there some immense heaping up of vices and virtues turns mere sorrow grand and solemn, and their very sight makes even selfishness and personal advantage stop and feel pity - though that notion of pity is much like some tasty fruit that gets gobbled right up. Civilization's high-riding chariot, like the believer-crushing car of the idol Juggernaut, barely slows down when it comes to a heart a bit harder to crack, and if such a heart gets in the way it's pretty quickly smashed, and on goes the glorious march.[...]
After you've read all about Pere Goriot's miserable secrets, you'll have yourself a good dinner and blame your indifference on the author, scolding him for exaggeration, accusing him of having waxed poetic. Ah, but let me tell you: this drama is not fictional, it's not a novel. All is true - so true you'll be able to recognize everything that goes into it in your own life, perhaps even in your heart.
The faint hints of color in her complexion, her tawny blond hair, her extraordinary thinness, all spoke of that unearthly grace modern poets find in the medieval statues. Had she been happy, she'd have been ravishing: happiness constitutes pure poetry, for women.
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