Quotes from Nobody's Boy (Sans Famille)

Hector Malot ·  255 pages

Rating: (9.2K votes)


“Mais il faut bien dire qu'il y a quelque chose de plus important encore que le temps qu'on emploie au travail, c'est l'application qu'on y apporte; ce n'est pas l'heure que nous passons sur notre leçon qui met cette leçon dans notre mémoire, c'est la volonté d'apprendre.”
― Hector Malot, quote from Nobody's Boy (Sans Famille)


“Ah! Cât de sărac este graiul buzelor față de cel al ochilor. Cât de reci și goale sunt cuvintele în comparație co ochii!”
― Hector Malot, quote from Nobody's Boy (Sans Famille)


“Vậy ra tôi chỉ yêu thương và được yêu thương để rồi phải xa lìa một cách phũ phàng, những người tôi cứ muốn sống suốt đời bên cạnh. Không có cách gì để có thể đoàn tụ họ lại được sao?”
― Hector Malot, quote from Nobody's Boy (Sans Famille)


“On obtient peu de chose par la brutalité, tandis qu'on obtient beaucoup, pour ne pas dire tout, par la douceur.”
― Hector Malot, quote from Nobody's Boy (Sans Famille)


“la moquerie peut avoir du bon pour réformer un caractère vicieux, mais lorsqu’elle s’adresse à l’ignorance, elle est une marque de sottise chez celui qui l’emploie.”
― Hector Malot, quote from Nobody's Boy (Sans Famille)



“Câinele este întotdeauna oglinda stăpânului său şi cine se uită la unul, îl vede pe celălalt. Arată-mi câinele tău pentru a-ţi spune cine eşti . Ticălosul are drept câine un netrebnic. Hoţul, un hoţ. Ţăranul prost un câine grosolan. Omul politicos şi amabil un câine binecrescut.”
― Hector Malot, quote from Nobody's Boy (Sans Famille)


“În faţa mea se deschidea o viaţă nouă. Mi-am amintit de Vitalis şi mi-am spus şi eu; Înainte!”
― Hector Malot, quote from Nobody's Boy (Sans Famille)


“Există lucruri triste în această lume şi care te pun pe gânduri; dar nu cunosc vreun lucru mai urât şi mai trist decât poarta unei închisori.”
― Hector Malot, quote from Nobody's Boy (Sans Famille)


“Când ai ochi să priveşti şi pe ei îţi pui ochelarii pe care ţi-i dau cărţile , sfârşeşti prin a vedea lucrurile aşa cum sunt ele cu adevărat.”
― Hector Malot, quote from Nobody's Boy (Sans Famille)


“-Dar dacă . într-o zi, cineva l-ar lovi în cap pe Mattia?
Acesta începu să surâdă trist.
-Nu asta ar fi cel mai grav;oare loviturile fac rău atunci când le primeşti pentru un prieten?”
― Hector Malot, quote from Nobody's Boy (Sans Famille)



“Mais il y a des moments où le cœur voit mieux et plus loin que les yeux les plus perçants”
― Hector Malot, quote from Nobody's Boy (Sans Famille)


“Comprends aujourd’hui, mon garçon, que la vie est trop souvent une bataille dans laquelle on ne fait pas ce qu’on veut.”
― Hector Malot, quote from Nobody's Boy (Sans Famille)


About the author

Hector Malot
Born place: in La Bouille, Seine-Maritime, France
Born date May 20, 1830
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“I don't know that you'll understand this, but once upon a time, long ago, I was a scholar and a marathon man, but that fella's gone now, dead I suppose, but I remember something he thought, which was that if you don't learn the mistakes of the past, you'll be doomed to repeat them. Well we've been making a mistake with people like you, because public trials are bullshit and executions are games for winners - all this time we should have been giving back pain. That's the real lesson. That's the loser's share, just pain, pure and simple, pain and torture, no hotshot lawyers running around trying to see that justice is done. I think we'd have a nice peaceful place here if all you warmakers knew you better not start something because if you lost, agony was just around the bend. That's what I'd like to give you. Agony. Not what you're suffering now. I mean a lifetime of it, 'cause that's the only degree of justice I think we're ready for down here yet, and I know any humanist might disagree with me too, but I don't think you will, because you had a lot to do with educating me, I'm like you now, except I'm better at it, because you're going to die and I've still got a long way to go.”
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― Sandi Lynn, quote from Forever Us


“Mister God made everything, didn’t he?”

There was no point in saying I didn’t really know. I said “Yes.”

“Even the dirt and the stars and the animals and the people and the trees and everything, and the pollywogs?” The pollywogs were those little creatures we had seen under the microscope.

I said, “Yes, he made everything.”

She nodded her agreement. “Does Mister God love us truly?”

“Sure thing,” I said. “Mister God loves everything.”

“Oh,” she said. “well then, why does he let things get hurt and dead?” Her voice sounded as if she felt she had betrayed a sacred trust, but the question had been thought and it had to be spoken.

“I don’t know,” I replied. “There’re a great many things about Mister God, we don’t know about?”

“Well then,” she continued, “if we don’t know many things about Mister God, how do we know he loves us?”

I could see this was going to be one of those times, but thank goodness she didn’t expect an answer to her question, for she hurried on: “Them pollywogs, I could love them till I bust, but they wouldn’t know, would they? I’m million times bigger than they are and Mister God is million times bigger than me, so how do I know what Mister God does?”

She was silent for a little while. Later I thought that at this moment she was taking her last look at babyhood. Then she went on.

“Fynn, Mister God doesn’t love us.” She hesitated. “He doesn’t really, you know, only people can love. I love Bossy, but Bossy don’t love me. I love the pollywogs, but they don’t love me. I love you Fynn, and you love me, don’t you?”

I tightened my arm about her.

“You love me because you are people. I love Mister God truly but he don’t love me.”

It sounded to me like a death knell. “Damn and blast,” I thought. “Why does this have to happen to people? Now she’s lost everything.” But I was wrong.

She had got both feet planted firmly on the next stepping stone.

“No,” she went on, “no, he don’t love me, not like you do, its different, its millions of times bigger.”

I must have made some movement or noise, for she levered herself upright and sat on her haunches and giggled. The she launched herself at me and undid my little pang of hurt, cut from the useless spark of jealousy with the delicate sureness of a surgeon.

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It seemed to me to reduce itself to the fact that we were like God because of the similarities, but God was not like us because of our differences. Her inner fires had refined her ideas, and like some alchemist she had turned lead into gold. Gone were all the human definitions of God, like Goodness, Mercy, Love, and Justice, for these were merely props to describe the indescribable.

“You see, Fynn, Mister God is different because he can finish things and we cant. I cant finish loving you because I shall be dead millions of years before I can finish, but Mister God can finish loving you, and so its not the same kind of love, is it?”
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