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A novel is a mirror which passes over a highway. Sometimes it reflects to your eyes the blue of the skies, at others the churned-up mud of the road.

Stendhal

When intimacy followed love in Italy there were no longer any vain pretensions between two lovers.
STENDHAL

Act Follow Intimate Love
One can acquire everything in solitude except character.
STENDHAL

Acquire Character Oneself Solitude
The worst of prison life, he thought, was not being able to close his door.
STENDHAL

Close Himself Life Prison Thinking Worst
I think being condemned to death is the only real distinction,” said Mathilde. “It is the only thing which cannot be bought.
STENDHAL

Bought Death Reality Thinking
Every true passion thinks only of itself.
STENDHAL

Passion Thinking True
The pleasures of love are always in proportion to our fears.
STENDHAL

Fear Love Ourselves Proportion
Friendship has its illusions no less than love.
STENDHAL

Friendship Illusion Love
When a man leaves his mistress, he runs the risk of being betrayed two or three times daily.
STENDHAL

Betrayal Leaving Man Risk Time
A novel is a mirror which passes over a highway. Sometimes it reflects to your eyes the blue of the skies, at others the churned-up mud of the road.
STENDHAL

Eyes Highway Mirror Novel Reflection Road
One of the traits of genius is not to drag its thought through the rut worn by vulgar minds.
STENDHAL

Drag Genius Mindset Thinking Vulgar
Your career will be a painful one. I divine something in you which offends the vulgar.
STENDHAL

Career Divine Offend Pain Vulgur
It is better to have a prosaic husband and to take a romantic lover.
STENDHAL

Better Choice Husband Lover Romantic
There is no such thing as “natural law”: this expression is nothing but old nonsense… Prior to laws, what is natural is only the strength of the lion, or the need of the creature suffering from hunger or cold, in short, need.
STENDHAL

Cold Hungry Law Natural Need Strength Suffering
Prudery is a kind of avarice, the worst of all.
STENDHAL

Kind Vice Worst
Signs cannot be represented, in a spy’s report, so damningly as words.
STENDHAL

Report Representation Word
Life is very short, and it ought not to be spent crawling at the feet of miserable scoundrels.
STENDHAL

Life Misery Short Time

A novel is a mirror which passes over a highway. Sometimes it reflects to your eyes the blue of the skies, at others the churned-up mud of the road.

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A novel is a mirror which passes over a highway. Sometimes it reflects to your eyes the blue of the skies, at others the churned-up mud of the road.

Related Topics

Popular Authors

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