The whole dream of democracy is to raise the proletarian to the level of stupidity attained by the bourgeois. — Gustave Flaubert Copy Share Image
Emma was no asleep, she was pretending to be asleep; and, while he was dozing off at her side, she lay awake,… — Gustave Flaubert Copy Share Image
My life which I dream will be so beautiful, so poetic, so vast, so filled with love will turn out to be… — Gustave Flaubert Copy Share Image
“Well," he said, "don't you know that there are souls forever in torment? They must have alternate dream and action, the purest… — Gustave Flaubert Copy Share Image
“You ask me whether the Orient is up to what I imagined it to be. Yes, it is; and more than that,… — Gustave Flaubert Copy Share Image
In the dark room a cloud of yellow dust flew from beneath the tool like a scatter of sparks from under the… — Gustave Flaubert Copy Share Image
“An overwhelming curiosity makes me ask myself what their lives might be like. I want to know what they do, where they're… — Gustave Flaubert Copy Share Image
“At other times, at the edge of a wood, especially at dusk, the trees themselves would assume strange shapes: sometimes they were… — Gustave Flaubert Copy Share Image
“At the bottom of her heart, however, she was waiting for something to happen. Like shipwrecked sailors, she turned despairing eyes upon… — Gustave Flaubert Copy Share Image
“The whole dream of democracy is to raise the proletariat to the level of stupidity attained by the bourgeoisie.” — Gustave Flaubert Copy Share Image
He dreamed of funeral love, but dreams crumble and the tomb abides — Gustave Flaubert Copy Share Image
Thought is the greatest of pleasures —pleasure itself is only imagination—have you ever enjoyed anything more than your dreams? — 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
I go dreaming into the future, where I see nothing, nothing. I have no plans, no idea, no project, and, what 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
