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Everything one invents is true, you may be perfectly sure of that. Poetry is as precise as geometry.

Gustave Flaubert

Related Topics

Invention Perfection Poetry Precise True

Bagwalas

Popular Authors

Marilyn Monroe Paulo Coelho Abraham Lincoln C. S. Lewis Khalil Gibran Charlie Chaplin Gautama Buddha Isaac Newton

You must write for yourself, above all. That is your only hope of creating something beautiful.
GUSTAVE FLAUBERT

Beautiful Creation Hope Writing Yourself
The principal thing in this world is to keep one’s soul aloft.
GUSTAVE FLAUBERT

Humble Principle Soul World
A friend who dies, it’s something of you who dies.
GUSTAVE FLAUBERT

Death Friendship Yourself
There is no truth. There is only perception.
GUSTAVE FLAUBERT

One Liner Perception Truth
I have dreamed much and have done very little.
GUSTAVE FLAUBERT

Desire Dreams Myself Potential
Success is a consequence and must not be a goal.
GUSTAVE FLAUBERT

Consequence Goal Success
Do not read, as children do, to amuse yourself, or like the ambitious, for the purpose of instruction. No, read in order to live.
GUSTAVE FLAUBERT

Ambitious Children Instruction Live Order Purpose Reading
My foregrounds are imaginary, my backgrounds real.
GUSTAVE FLAUBERT

Imagination Myself Reality
Everything which one invents is true, be sure of it.
GUSTAVE FLAUBERT

Invention Oneself True
There are three thing in the world I love most: the sea, Hamlet, and Don Giovanni.
GUSTAVE FLAUBERT

Favorite Myself World
Anything becomes interesting if you look at it long enough.
GUSTAVE FLAUBERT

Interest See Sight Yourself
After a person dies, there is always something like a feeling of stupefaction, so difficult is it to comprehend this unexpected advent of nothingness and to resign oneself to believing it.
GUSTAVE FLAUBERT

Believe Death Difficult Feeling Oneself Person
One’s duty is to feel what is great, cherish the beautiful, and to not accept the conventions of society with the ignominy that it imposes upon us.
GUSTAVE FLAUBERT

Acceptance Beautiful Feeling Greatness Society
Reality does not conform to the ideal, but confirms it.
GUSTAVE FLAUBERT

Confirm Ideal Reality
Love is a springtime plant that perfumes everything with its hope, even the ruins to which it clings.
GUSTAVE FLAUBERT

Hope Love Perfume Plant Ruin Time
Human speech is like a cracked kettle on which we tap crude rhythms for bears to dance to, while we long to make music that will melt the stars.
GUSTAVE FLAUBERT

Human Music Rhythm Speech Stars

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