I have to confess that I had gambled on my soul and lost it with heroic insouciance and lightness of touch. The soul is so impalpable, so often useless, and sometimes such a nuisance, that I felt no more emotion on losing it than if, on a stroll, I had mislaid my visiting card.
Topics: Soul, Gambling
Our religion is itself profoundly sad—a religion of universal anguish, and one which, because of its very catholicity, grants full liberty to the individual and asks no better than to be celebrated in each man’s own language—so long as he knows anguish and is a painter.
Topics: Catholicism, Religion
The poet is like the prince of clouds|Who haunts the tempest and laughs at the archer;|Exiled on the ground in the midst of jeers,|His giant wings prevent him from walking.
We are weighed down, every moment, by the conception and the sensation of Time. And there are but two means of escaping and forgetting this nightmare: pleasure and work. Pleasure consumes us. Work strengthens us. Let us choose.
Topics: Time, Time Management
Life is a hospital in which every patient is possessed by the desire of changing his bed. One would prefer to suffer near the fire, and another is certain he would get well if he were by the window.
Topics: Patient, Reality, Opportunities
- Arthur Rimbaud French Poet
- Remy de Gourmont French Poet
- Guillaume Apollinaire Italian-born French Poet
- Victor Hugo French Novelist
- Jean-Paul Sartre French Philosopher
- Octave Mirbeau French Journalist
- Jean Cocteau French Poet
- Jean de La Fontaine French Poet
- Alphonse de Lamartine French Writer
- Voltaire French Philosopher