“It is a delicious thing to write, whether well or badly--to be no longer yourself but to move in an entire universe of your own creating. Today, for instance, man and woman, lover and beloved, I rode in a forest… — Gustav Flaubert Copy Share
“It is a delicious thing to write, whether well or badly--to be no longer yourself but to move in an entire universe of your own creating. Today, for instance, man and woman, lover and beloved, I rode in a forest on an autumn afternoon under the yellow leaves, and I was also the horses, the leaves, the wind, the words… — Gustav Flaubert Copy Share
“There, at the top of the table, alone amongst all these women, stooped over his ample plateful, with his napkin tied around his neck like a child, an old man sat eating, drips of gravy drbibbling gravy from him lips. His eyes were bloodshot and he had a little pigtail tied up with a black ribbon. This was the Marquis'… — Gustav Flaubert Copy Share
“I believe that if someone always looked at the skies, one would end up with wings.” — Gustav Flaubert Copy Share Image
“She remembered the heroines of novels she had read, and the lyrical legion of those adulterous women began to sing in her memory with sisterly voices that enchanted her. Now she saw herself as one of those amoureuses whom she had so envied: she was becoming, in reality, one of that gallery of fictional figures; the long dream of her… — Gustav Flaubert Copy Share
“Bourgeois do not even suspect that we serve them our hearts. The race of gladiators has not died: every artist is one. He amuses… — Gustav Flaubert Copy Share Image
“To want to give to prose the rhythm of verse (but keeping it very much prose), and to want to write about ordinary life… — Gustav Flaubert Copy Share Image
