At fifteen, neither beauty nor talent exist: a woman is all promise.
HONORE DE BALZACPeople exaggerate both happiness and unhappiness; we are never so fortunate nor so unfortunate as people say we are.
More Honore de Balzac Quotes
-
-
A jealous husband doesnt doubt his wife, but himself.
HONORE DE BALZAC -
First love is a kind of vaccination which saves a man from catching the complaint the second time.
HONORE DE BALZAC -
The press is like a woman: sublime when it lies, it will not let go until it has forced you to believe it. The public, like a foolish husband, always succumbs.
HONORE DE BALZAC -
Temperament is the thermometer of character.
HONORE DE BALZAC -
The fact is that love is of two kinds, one which commands, and one which obeys. The two are quite distinct, and the passion to which the one gives rise is not the passion of the other.
HONORE DE BALZAC -
Solitude is fine, but you need someone to tell you that solitude is fine.
HONORE DE BALZAC -
Woman is a delightful instrument of pleasure, but it is necessary to know its trembling strings, to study the position of them, the timid keyboard, the fingering so changeful and capricious which befits it.
HONORE DE BALZAC -
Give to a wounded heart seclusion; consolation nor reason ever effected anything in such a case.
HONORE DE BALZAC -
True love is eternal, infinite, and always like itself. It is equal and pure, without violent demonstrations: it is seen with white hairs and is always young in the heart.
HONORE DE BALZAC -
If we all said to people’s faces what we say behind one another’s backs, society would be impossible.
HONORE DE BALZAC -
Physically, a man is a man for a much longer time than a woman is a woman.
HONORE DE BALZAC -
Life cannot go on without much forgetting.
HONORE DE BALZAC -
The motto of chivalry is also the motto of wisdom; to serve all, but love only one.
HONORE DE BALZAC -
Hatred like love feeds on the merest trifles. Everything adds to it. Just as the being we love can do no wrong, so the one we hate can do no right.
HONORE DE BALZAC -
Excess of joy is harder to bear than any amount of sorrow.
HONORE DE BALZAC