[The artist] is like a pump; he has inside him a great pipe that reaches down into the entrails of things, the… — Gustave Flaubert Copy Share Image
“The morality of art consists, for everyone, in the side that flatters its own interests. People do not like literature.” — Gustave Flaubert Copy Share Image
I had, as I told you, a great passion while still almost a child. When it was over, I divided myself in… — Gustave Flaubert Copy Share Image
On certain occasions art can shake very ordinary spirits, and whole worlds can be revealed by its clumsiest interpreters. — Gustave Flaubert Copy Share Image
If you participate in life, you don’t see it clearly: you suffer from it too much or enjoy it too much. The… — Gustave Flaubert Copy Share Image
The only way to avoid being unhappy is to close yourself up in Art and to count for nothing all the rest. — Gustave Flaubert Copy Share Image
Do not imagine you can exorcise what oppresses you in life by giving vent to it in art. — Gustave Flaubert Copy Share Image
There are in me, in literary terms, two distinct characters: one who is taken with roaring, with lyricism, with soaring aloft, with… — Gustave Flaubert Copy Share Image
“that incongruity of common and elegant in which the habitually vulgar think they see the revelation of an eccentric existence, of the… — Gustave Flaubert Copy Share Image
Each dream finds at last its form; there is a drink for every thirst, and love for every heart. And there is… — Gustave Flaubert Copy Share Image
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 Copy Share Image
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 Copy Share Image
“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 Copy Share Image
Love is a springtime plant that perfumes everything with its hope, even the ruins to which it clings. — Gustave Flaubert Copy Share Image
“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 Copy Share Image
When you reduce a woman to writing, she makes you think of a thousand other women — Gustave Flaubert Copy Share Image
Travel makes one modest. You see what a tiny place you occupy in the world. — Gustave Flaubert Copy Share Image
A superhuman will is needed in order to write, and I am only a man. — Gustave Flaubert Copy Share Image
The writer must wade into life as into the sea, but only up to the navel. — Gustave Flaubert Copy Share Image
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