Hatred is the vice of narrow souls; they feed it with all their littleness, and make it the pretext of base tyrannies.
Honoré de BalzacIt is absurd to pretend that one cannot love the same woman always, as to pretend that a good artist needs several violins to execute a piece of music.
Honoré de BalzacDeath is as unexpected in his caprice as a courtesan in her disdain; but death is truer – Death has never forsaken any man
Honoré de BalzacTag: death
There are men who put the weight of a coffin into their deliberations as they bargain for Cashmere shawls for their wives, as they go up the staircase of a theatre, or think of going to the Bouffons, or of setting up a carriage; who are murderers in thought when dear ones, with the irresistable charm of innocence, hold up childish foreheads to be kissed with a ‘Good-night, father!’ Hourly they meet the gaze of eyes they would fain close forever, eyes that still open each morning to the light. . . God alone knows the number of those who are parricides in thought
Honoré de BalzacTag: murder
A murderer is less loathsome to us than a spy. The murderer may have acted on a sudden mad impulse; he may be penitent and amend; but a spy is always a spy, night and day, in bed, at table, as he walks abroad; his vileness pervades every moment of his life
Honoré de BalzacTag: spies
Reading brings us unknown friends
Honoré de BalzacTag: reading
The more he saw, the more he doubted. He watched men narrowly, and saw how, beneath the surface, courage was often rashness; and prudence, cowardice; generosity, a clever piece of calculation; justice, a wrong; delicacy, pusillanimity; honesty, a modus vivendi; and by some strange dispensation of fate, he must see that those who at heart were really honest, scrupulous, just, generous, prudent or brave were held cheaply by their fellow-men.
‘What a cold-blooded jest!’ said he to himself. ‘It was not devised by a God.’
From that time forth he renounced a better world, and never uncovered himself when a Name was pronounced, and for him the carven saints in the churches became works of art
Bureaucracy is a giant mechanism operated by pygmies.
Honoré de BalzacLove is the reduction of the universe to the single being,
and the expansion of a single being, even to God
Great love affairs start with Champagne and end with tisane
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