The blood of my motherland waters a magic plant that cures all ills. That plant is art, and sometimes art needs corruption as a kind of fertilizer — Alfred de Musset Copy Share Image
Alas, everything that men say to one another is alike; the ideas they exchange are almost always the same, in their conversation. But inside… — Alfred de Musset Copy Share Image
A lively retrospect summons back to us once more our youth, with vivid reflex of its early joys and unstained pleasures. — Alfred de Musset Copy Share Image
“During the wars of the Empire, while husbands and brothers were in Germany, anxious mothers gave birth to an ardent, pale, and neurotic generation.… — Alfred De Musset Copy Share Image
I don't know where my road is going, but I know that I walk better when I hold your hand. — Alfred de Musset Copy Share Image
“As soon as we entered I plunged into the giddy whirl of the waltz. That delightful exercise has always been dear to me; I… — Alfred De Musset Copy Share Image
As all the perfumes of the vanished dayRise from the earth still moistened with the dewSo from my chastened soul beneath thy rayOld love… — Alfred de Musset Copy Share Image
It was one of those somber evenings when the sighing of the wind resembles the moans of a dying man; a storm was brewing,… — Alfred de Musset Copy Share Image
“Your name, merely your name, floods my brain to a point of sweet disgust.” — Alfred De Musset Copy Share Image
Partake of love as a temperate man partakes of wine; do not become intoxicated. — Alfred de Musset Copy Share Image
