“It’s hard to communicate anything exactly and that’s why perfect relationships between people are difficult to find.”
“Years passed; and he endured the idleness of his intelligence and the inertia of his heart.”
“The hearts of women are like those little pieces of furniture with secret hiding - places, full of drawers fitted into each other; you go to a lot of trouble, break your nails, and in the bottom find some withered flower, a few grains of dust - or emptiness!”
“And the more he was irritated by her basic personality, the more he was drawn to her by a harsh, bestial sensuality, illusions of a moment, which ended in hate.”
“There are some men whose only mission among others is to act as intermediaries; one crosses them like bridges and keeps going.”
“Never had he beheld such a magnificent brown skin, so entrancing a figure, such dainty, transparent fingers. He stood gazing in wonder at her work-basket as if it was something extraordinary. What was her name? Where did she live and what sort of life did she lead? What was her past? He wanted to know what furniture she had in her bedroom, the dresses she wore, the people she knew; even his physical desire for her gave way to a deeper yearning, a boundless, aching curiosity.”
“His heart was flooded with immense love, and as he gazed on her he could feel his mind growing numb.”
“I'm the sort of man who's doomed to be a failure and I'll go to my grave without ever knowing whether I was real gold or just tinsel!”
“Les cœurs des femmes sont comme ces petits meubles à secret, pleins de tiroirs emboîtés les uns dans les autres ; on se donne du mal, on se casse les ongles, et on trouve au fond quelque fleur desséchée, des brins de poussière – ou le vide !”
“Pellerin used to read every available book on aesthetics, in the hope of discovering the true theory of Beauty, for he was convinced that once he had found it he would be able to paint masterpieces.”
“The hearts of women are like little pieces of furniture wherein things are secreted, full of drawers fitted into each other; one hurts himself, breaks his nails in opening them, and then finds within only some withered flower, a few grains of dust - or emptiness! And then perhaps he felt afraid of learning too much about the matter.”
“C'était à Mégara, faubourg de Carthage, dans les jardins d'Hamilcar.”
“En plongeant dans la personnalité des autres, il oublia la sienne, ce qui est la seule manière peut-être de n'en pas souffrir.”
“Besides, she had just reached the autumnal period of womanhood, in which reflection is combined with tenderness, in which the beginning of maturity colours the face with a more intense flame, when strength of feeling mingles with experience of life, and when, having completely expanded, the entire being overflows with a richness in unison with its beauty. Never had she possessed more sweetness, more leniency. Secure in the thought that she would not err, she abandoned herself to a sentiment which seemed to her justified by her sorrows. And, moreover, it was so innocent and fresh! What an abyss lay between the coarseness of Arnoux and the adoration of Frederick!”
“Cheer up,' said the captain's son. 'Life is long, and we are young.”
“As there was no rational foundation for Frederick’s complaints, and as he could not give evidence of any real misfortune, Martinon was unable to understand his lamentations about existence. As for him, he went every morning to the school, after that took a walk in the Luxembourg, in the evening swallowed his half-cup of coffee; and with fifteen hundred francs a year, and the love of this work-woman, he felt perfectly happy.”
“Standing side by side, on some rising ground, they felt, as they drank in the air, the pride of a life more free penetrating into the depths of their souls, with a superabundance of energy, a joy which they could not explain.”
“L'action, pour certains hommes, est d'autant plus impraticable que le désir est plus fort. La méfiance d'eux-mêmes les embarrasse, la crainte de déplaire les épouvante; d’ailleurs, les affections profondes ressemblent aux honnêtes femmes; elles ont peur d’être découvertes, et passent dans la vie les yeux baissés.”
“Il voulait qu'elle se donnât, et non la prendre.”
“Des doutes succédaient à leurs emportements d'espoir. Après des crises de gaieté verbeuse, ils tombaient dans des silences profonds.”
“Deslauriers, qui couchait dans le cabinet au bois, près de la fontaine, poussait un long bâillement. Frédéric s'asseyait au pied de son lit. D'abord il parlait du dîner, puis il racontait mille détails insignifiants, où il voyait des marques de mépris ou d'affection. Une fois, par exemple, elle avait refusé son bras, pour prendre celui de Dittmer, et Frédéric se désolait.
- Ah ! quelle bêtise!
Ou bien elle l'avait appelé son "ami".
- Vas-y gaiement, alors!
- Mais je n'ose pas, disait Frédéric.
- Eh bien, n'y pense plus. Bonsoir.”
“Anyway, what was the use? Women's hearts were like those desks full of secret drawers that fit one inside another; you struggle with them, you break your fingernails, and at the bottom you find a withered flower, a little dust, or nothing at all!”
“I zamišljali su život predan jedino ljubavi, dosta plodan da ispuni najopsežnije samoće, prevrši sve radosti, odoli svim nevoljama, u kojem bi ure minule u neprestanom prelijevanju njihovih duša; život, koji bi stvorio nešto sjajno i uzvišeno kao što je titranje zvijezda.”
“ Frédéric n'aima point cette manière de s'associer, tout de suite, à sa fortune. Son ami témoignait trop de joie pour eux deux, et pas assez pour lui seul.”
“Laissez-moi tranquille avec votre hideuse réalité ! Qu'est-ce que cela veut dire, la réalité ? Les uns voient noir, d'autres bleu, la multitude voit bête. Rien de moins naturel que Michel-Ange, rien de plus fort ! Le souci de la vérité extérieure dénote la bassesse contemporaine ; et l'art deviendra, si l'on continue, je ne sais quelle rocambole au-dessous de la religion comme poésie, et de la politique comme intérêt. Vous n'arriverez pas à son but, - oui, son but ! -”
“Les Grecs alignèrent sur des rangs parallèles leurs tentes de peaux; les Ibériens disposèrent en cercle leurs pavillons de toile; les Gaulois se firent des baraques de planches; les Libyens des cabanes de pierres sèches, et les Nègres creusèrent dans le sable avec leurs ongles des fosses pour dormir. Beaucoup, ne sachant où se mettre, erraient au milieu des bagages [...]”
“Se lăuda că își cunoaște limba și purica cele mai frumoase fraze cu acea severitate haină, acel gust academic care caracterizează persoanele zvăpăiate cînd se ocupă de arta serioasă./
Il se vantait de savoir sa langue et épluchait les phrases les plus belles avec cette sévérité hargneuse, ce goût académique qui distinguent les personnes d’humeur folâtre quand elles abordent l’art sérieux. (©BeQ)”
“Frédéric se așteptase să fie zguduit de bucurie; dar sentimentele slăbesc cînd le schimbi locul și, nemaigăsind-o pe doamna Arnoux în mediul în care o cunoscuse, îi părea că pierduse ceva, că purta în ea, nelămurit, un fel de degradare, că, în sfîrșit, nu mai era aceeași. Liniștea inimii lui îl uluia./
Frédéric s’était attendu à des spasmes de joie; mais les passions s’étiolent quand on les dépayse, et, ne retrouvant plus Mme Arnoux dans le milieu où il l’avait connue, elle lui semblait avoir perdu quelque chose, porter confusément comme une dégradation, enfin n’être pas la même. Le calme de son coeur le stupéfiait. (©BeQ)”
“... camaraderia lor era o piedică pentru manifestarea oricărei emoții serioase./
... leur camaraderie faisait obstacle à l’épanchement de toute émotion sérieuse. (©BeQ)”
“Nothing changes; we humans repeat the same sins over and over, eternally.”
“He stopped smoking at least once a month. He went through with it like the solid citizen he was: admitted the evils of tobacco, courageously made resolves, laid out plans to check the vice, tapered off his allowance of cigars, and expounded the pleasures of virtuousness to every one he met. He did everything, in fact, except stop smoking.”
“Oh, fuck me running! Or on the edge of your bed using your mouth.”
“Then there was survival. There was going on, as she had always gone on, without much joy, against her will, against her instincts, without the stomach for it, but on and on and on, without relief, without release, without a hand to reach out and touch her heart. Without kindness or comfort. But on.
Forced into such poverty, imprisoned in such despair, there was only one thing she was sure she could do. She could survive.”
“Your gravity, your grace have turned a tide
In me, no lunar power can reverse;
But in your narcoleptic eyes I spied
A sightlessness tonight: or something worse,
A disregard that made me feel unmanned.
Meanwhile, insomniac, I catch my breath
To think I saw my future traced in sand
One afternoon "as still, as carved, as death,”
And pray for an oblivion so deep
It ends in transformation. Only dawn
Can save me, flood this haunted house of sleep
With light, and drown the thoughts that nightly warn:
Another lifetime is the least you’ll need, to trace
The guarded secrets of her gravity, her grace.”
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