Gustave Flaubert
![Gustave Flaubert](/assets/img/authors/gustave-flaubert.jpg)
Gustave Flaubert
Gustave Flaubertwas an influential French novelist who was perhaps the leading exponent of literary realism in his country. He is known especially for his first published novel, Madame Bovary, for his Correspondence, and for his scrupulous devotion to his style and aesthetics. The celebrated short story writer Guy de Maupassant was a protégé of Flaubert...
NationalityFrench
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth12 December 1821
CityRouen, France
CountryFrance
The author, in his work, must be like God in the Universe, present everywhere and visible nowhere.
Happiness is a monstrosity! Punished are those who seek it.
Abstraction can provide stumbling blocks for people of strange intelligence.
It is an excellent habit to look at things as so many symbols.
As for the piano, the faster her fingers flew over it, the more he marveled. She struck the keys with aplomb and ran from one end of the keyboard to the other without a stop.
The more you approach infinity, the deeper you penetrate terror
Snicker on hearing his name: 'the gentleman who thinks we are descended from the apes.'
Maybe happiness too is a metaphor invented on a day of boredom
Isn’t ‘not to be bored’ one of the principal goals of life?
As you get older, the heart shed its leaves like a tree. You cannot hold out against certain winds. Each day tears away a few more leaves; and then there are the storms that break off several branches at one go. And while nature’s greenery grows back again in the spring, that of the heart never grows back.
Love, to her, was something hat comes suddenly, like a blinding flash of lightening - a heaven-sent storm hurled into life, uprooting it, sweeping every will before it like a leaf, engulfing all feelings.
On spinach: I dislike it, and am happy to dislike it because if I liked it I would eat it, and I cannot stand it.
What is glory? It is to have a lot of nonsense talked about you.
Language is a cracked kettle on which we beat out tunes for bears to dance to, while all the time we long to move the stars to pity.