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By means of an image we are often able to hold on to our lost belongings. But it is the desperateness of losing which picks the flowers of memory, binds the bouquet.

Sidonie Gabrielle Colette

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Desperate Flower Image Lose Memories Ourselves

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

As for an authentic villain, the real thing, the absolute, the artist, one rarely meets him even once in a lifetime. The ordinary bad hat is always in part a decent fellow.
SIDONIE GABRIELLE COLETTE

Artist Authentic Himself Life Ordinary Time Villain
A kindly gesture bestowed by us on an animal arouses prodigies of understanding and gratitude.
SIDONIE GABRIELLE COLETTE

Gratitude Kindness Prodigy Understand
A pretty little collection of weaknesses and a terror of spiders are our indispensable stock-in-trade with the men.
SIDONIE GABRIELLE COLETTE

Collection Man Terror Trade Weakness
Jealousy is not at all low, but it catches us humbled and bowed down, at first sight.
SIDONIE GABRIELLE COLETTE

Humble Jealous Low Sight
Our perfect companions never have fewer than four feet.
SIDONIE GABRIELLE COLETTE

Companion Ourselves Perfection
Hope costs nothing.
SIDONIE GABRIELLE COLETTE

Hope Inspirational Motivational One Liner
It is wise to apply the oil of refined politeness to the mechanisms of friendship.
SIDONIE GABRIELLE COLETTE

Friendship Mechanism Polite Wisdom
I did not look for her, because I was afraid of dispelling the mystery we attach to people whom we know only casually.
SIDONIE GABRIELLE COLETTE

Attachment Casually Myself Mystery People Search
By an image we hold on to our lost treasures, but it is the wrenching loss that forms the image, composes, binds the bouquet.
SIDONIE GABRIELLE COLETTE

Form Hold Image Lost Treasure
That lovely voice; how I should weep for joy if I could hear it now!
SIDONIE GABRIELLE COLETTE

Joy Love Myself Voice
Total absence of humor renders life impossible.
SIDONIE GABRIELLE COLETTE

Absence Humor Impossible Life
I have found my voice again and the art of using it.
SIDONIE GABRIELLE COLETTE

Art Finding Myself Voice
It is not a bad thing that children should occasionally, and politely, put parents in their place.
SIDONIE GABRIELLE COLETTE

Bad Children Occasional Parents Place Polite
Books, books, books. It was not that I read so much. I read and re-read the same ones. But all of them were necessary to me. Their presence, their smell, the letters of their titles, and the texture of their leather bindings.
SIDONIE GABRIELLE COLETTE

Book Myself Necessary Presence Reading
At sixty-three years of age, less a quarter, one still has plans.
SIDONIE GABRIELLE COLETTE

Age Grow Up Oneself Planning
By means of an image we are often able to hold on to our lost belongings. But it is the desperateness of losing which picks the flowers of memory, binds the bouquet.
SIDONIE GABRIELLE COLETTE

Desperate Flower Image Lose Memories Ourselves
On this narrow planet, we have only the choice between two unknown worlds. One of them tempts us – ah! what a dream, to live in that! – the other stifles us at the first breath.
SIDONIE GABRIELLE COLETTE

Breathe Choice Planet Temptation
One keeps forgetting old age up to the very brink of the grave.
SIDONIE GABRIELLE COLETTE

Age Forget Grave Old
It takes time for the absent to assume their true shape in our thoughts.
SIDONIE GABRIELLE COLETTE

Absence Shape Thinking Time True
You don’t think before you do something foolish. You do your thinking afterwards.
SIDONIE GABRIELLE COLETTE

Fools Thinking Yourself
I am going away with him to an unknown country where I shall have no past and no name, and where I shall be born again with a new face and an untried heart.
SIDONIE GABRIELLE COLETTE

Born Country Heart Myself Try Unknown
Writing only leads to more writing.
SIDONIE GABRIELLE COLETTE

One Liner Poet Writing
At the top of the iron staircase leading to the stage, the good, dry, dusty warmth wraps me round like a comfortable dirty cloak.
SIDONIE GABRIELLE COLETTE

Cloak Comfortable Dirty Leadership Warm
Sit down and put down everything that comes into your head and then you’re a writer. But an author is one who can judge his own stuff’s worth, without pity, and destroy most of it.
SIDONIE GABRIELLE COLETTE

Author Criticism Destroy Head Himself Judgement Poet Writing
The only virtue on which I pride myself is my self-doubt; when a writer loses her self-doubt, the time has come to lay aside her pen.
SIDONIE GABRIELLE COLETTE

Herself Pride Time Virtue
The day after that wedding night I found that a distance of a thousand miles, abyss and discovery and irremediable metamorphosis, separated me from the day before.
SIDONIE GABRIELLE COLETTE

Day Distance Finding Myself Separate
Never touch a butterfly’s wing with your finger.
SIDONIE GABRIELLE COLETTE

Fingers Touch Yourself

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