The smooth folds of her dress concealed a tumultuous…

As for the piano, the faster her fingers flew over it, the more he marveled. She struck the keys with aplomb and ran from…

— Gustave Flaubert

Caught up in life, you see it badly. You suffer from it or enjoy it too much. The artist, in my opinion, is a…

— Gustave Flaubert

“When one does something, one must do it wholly and well. Those bastard existences where you sell suet all day and write poetry at…

— Gustave Flaubert

Isn’t ‘not to be bored’ one of the principal goals of life?

— Gustave Flaubert

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

— Gustave Flaubert

“But her life was as cold as an attic facing north; and boredom, like a silent spider, was weaving its web in the shadows,…

— Gustave Flaubert

When you reduce a woman to writing, she makes you think of a thousand other women

— Gustave Flaubert

Travel makes one modest. You see what a tiny place you occupy in the world.

— Gustave Flaubert

“We must not touch our idols; the gilt sticks to our fingers.”

— Gustave Flaubert

A superhuman will is needed in order to write, and I am only a man.

— Gustave Flaubert

The writer must wade into life as into the sea, but only up to the navel.

— Gustave Flaubert

COLD. Healthier than heat.

— Gustave Flaubert

And indeed, what is better than to sit by one's fireside in the evening with a book, while the wind beats against the window…

— Gustave Flaubert

One's existence should be in two parts: one should live like a bourgeois and think like a demigod.

— Gustave Flaubert

Emma was no asleep, she was pretending to be asleep; and, while he was dozing off at her side, she lay awake, dreaming other…

— Gustave Flaubert