Francoise Sagan
Francoise Sagan
Françoise Sagan– real name Françoise Quoirez – was a French playwright, novelist, and screenwriter. Hailed as "a charming little monster" by François Mauriac on the front page of Le Figaro, Sagan was known for works with strong romantic themes involving wealthy and disillusioned bourgeois characters. Her best-known novel was her first – Bonjour Tristesse– which was written when she was a teenager...
NationalityFrench
ProfessionPlaywright
Date of Birth21 June 1935
CountryFrance
happiness jealousy laughter
To jealousy, nothing is more frightful than laughter.
feelings nonchalance playing-jazz
Jazz music is an intensified feeling of nonchalance.
desire vitality needs
For what are we looking for if not to please? I do not know if the desire to attract others comes from a superabundance of vitality, possessiveness, or the hidden, unspoken need to be reassured.
positive
It is healthier to see the good points of others than to analyze our own bad ones.
desire fear-of-love pleasure
For this was the round of love: fear which leads on desire, tenderness and fury, and that brutal anguish which triumphantly follows pleasure.
time thinking trying
I think the best way to waste time is to try to save time.
love-is cost
Love is worth whatever it costs.
laughter laughing
Nothing brings on jealousy like laughter.
commitment views ideas
He refused categorically all ideas of fidelity or serious commitments. He explained that they were arbitrary and sterile. From anyone else such views would have shocked me, but I knew that in his case they did not exclude tenderness and devotion - feelings which came all the more easily to him since he was determined that they should be transient.
nice real saws
I did not find him absurd. I saw he was kind, that he was on the verge of real love. I thought it would be nice for me to be in love with him, too.
uplifting military pity
pity is an agreeable sentiment, uplifting like military music.
morning light golden
He lifted me up and held me close against him, my head on his shoulder. At that moment I loved him. In the morning light he was as golden, as soft, as gentle as myself, and he would protect me.
night sea goes-on
At night, time becomes a calm sea. It goes on for ever.
proust
I've read Proust and Stendhal. That keeps you in your place.