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Guy de Maupassant

Words dazzle and deceive because they are mimed by the face. But black words on a white page are the soul laid bare.
GUY DE MAUPASSANT

Black Face Feeling Poet Soul Writing
We live always under the weight of the old and odious customs… of our barbarous ancestors.
GUY DE MAUPASSANT

Ancestor Custom Live Ourselves Weight
I love the night passionately. I love it with all my senses: I love to see it, I love to breathe it in, I love to open my ears to its silence, I love my whole body to be caressed by its blackness.
GUY DE MAUPASSANT

Body Breathe Love Myself Night Passionate Patience
History, that excitable and unreliable old lady.
GUY DE MAUPASSANT

Excitement History Lady Old
…A strange art – music – the most poetic and precise of all the arts, vague as a dream and precise as algebra.
GUY DE MAUPASSANT

Algebra Art Dreams Music Poet Strange
Military men are the scourges of the world.
GUY DE MAUPASSANT

Man World
We breathe love as we breathe air; we hold it in ourselves as we hold our thoughts. Nothing more exists for us.
GUY DE MAUPASSANT

Anand Thakur
Solitude is indeed dangerous for a working intelligence. We need to have around us people who think and speak. When we are alone for a long time we people the void with phantoms
GUY DE MAUPASSANT

Dangerous Intelligence People Solitude Talk Thinking Void Work
I entered literary life as a meteor, and I shall leave it like a thunderbolt.
GUY DE MAUPASSANT

Leaving Literature Myself
To avoid each other, their eyes had developed an amazing mobility with all the cunning of enemies fearful of meeting each other head on.
GUY DE MAUPASSANT

Avoid Development Each Other Eyes
Every government has as much of a duty to avoid war as a ship’s captain has to avoid a shipwreck.
GUY DE MAUPASSANT

Captain Government Responsibility
Broad daylight does not encourage the apprehension of horror.
GUY DE MAUPASSANT

Encouragement Horror
Breathing, sleeping, drinking, eating, working, dreaming, everything we do is dying. to live, in fact, is to die.
GUY DE MAUPASSANT

Breathe Death Drink Live Oneself Sleep
Our memory is a more perfect world than the universe: it gives back life to those who no longer exist.
GUY DE MAUPASSANT

Existence Life Memories Ourselves Perfection Universe
One sometimes weeps over one’s illusions with as much bitterness as over a death.
GUY DE MAUPASSANT

Death Illusion Time
Conversation. What is it? A Mystery! It’s the art of never seeming bored, of touching everything with interest, of pleasing with trifles, of being fascinating with nothing at all.
GUY DE MAUPASSANT

Art Boredom Conversation Fascinate Interest

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