black
grey
blue
red
brown
white

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

Our worst misfortunes never happen, and most miseries lie in anticipation.
HONORE DE BALZAC

Lying Misery Misfortune Worst
The good we do to others is spoilt unless we efface ourselves so completely that those we help have no sense of inferiority.
HONORE DE BALZAC

Complete Feeling Goodness Help Inferior
Virtue is not a thing you can have by halves; it is or it is not.
HONORE DE BALZAC

Acquire Pieces Virtue Whole Yourself
Coffee falls into the stomach. Ideas begin to move, things remembered arrive at full gallop. the shafts of wit start up like sharp-shooters, similes arise, the paper is covered with ink.
HONORE DE BALZAC

Beginning Coffee Fall Ideas Ink Paper Smile
Great love affairs start with Champagne and end with tisane.
HONORE DE BALZAC

Alcohol End Greatness Love Start
Old maids, having never bent their temper or their lives to other lives and other tempers, as woman’s destiny requires, have for the most part a mania for making everything about them bend to them.
HONORE DE BALZAC

Destiny Live Maid Old Requirement Woman
Women see everything or nothing according to the inclination of their hearts. Love is their sole light.
HONORE DE BALZAC

Heart Light Love See Woman
Women are ever the dupes or the victims of their extreme sensitiveness.
HONORE DE BALZAC

Sensitive Victim Woman
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

Believe Force Husband Let Go Lying Media Public Yourself
Woman is closer to angels than man because she knows how to mingle an infinite tenderness with the most absolute compassion.
HONORE DE BALZAC

Angel Compassionate Infinity Woman
One hour of love has a whole life in it.
HONORE DE BALZAC

Life Love Ourselves Time
I can no longer think of anything but you. In spite of myself, my imagination carries me to you. I grasp you, I kiss you, I caress you, a thousand of the most amorous caresses take possession of me.
HONORE DE BALZAC

Carry Imagination Kiss Myself Possession Thinking
Love is the poetry of the senses.
HONORE DE BALZAC

Love Poetry Sense
A great writer is nothing less than a martyr who does not die.
HONORE DE BALZAC

Death Greatness Poet Writing
Life is simply what out feelings do to us.
HONORE DE BALZAC

Feeling Life Ourselves Simplicity
The boor covers himself, the rich man or the fool adorns himself, and the elegant man gets dressed.
HONORE DE BALZAC

Admire Book Cover Dress Elegant Rich

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.

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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.

Related Topics

Popular Authors

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