Guy de Maupassant
Guy de Maupassant
Henri René Albert Guy de Maupassantmopasɑ̃]; 5 August 1850 – 6 July 1893) was a French writer, remembered as a master of the short story form, and as a representative of the naturalist school of writers, who depicted human lives and destinies and social forces in disillusioned and often pessimistic terms...
NationalityFrench
ProfessionWriter
Date of Birth5 August 1850
CountryFrance
Guy de Maupassant quotes about
writing giving verbs
Whatever you want to say, there is only one word to express it, only one verb to give it movement, only one adjective to qualify it.
healthy sublime brain
Great minds that are healthy are never considered geniuses, while this sublime qualification is lavished on brains that are often inferior but are slightly touched by madness.
art history humanity
The great artists are those who impose their personal vision upon humanity.
air breathe our-thoughts
We breathe love as we breathe air; we hold it in ourselves as we hold our thoughts. Nothing more exists for us.
meteors thunderbolts
I entered literary life as a meteor, and I shall leave it like a thunderbolt.
crafts reports
You must render: never report.
country morning dark
I love the night passionately. I love it as I love my country, or my mistress, with an instinctive, deep, and unshakeable love. I love it with all my senses: I love to see it, I love to breathe it in, I love to open my ears to its silence, I love my whole body to be caressed by its blackness. Skylarks sing in the sunshine, the blue sky, the warm air, in the fresh morning light. The owl flies by night, a dark shadow passing through the darkness; he hoots his sinister, quivering hoot, as though he delights in the intoxicating black immensity of space.
things-in-life good-things good-things-in-life
There is only one good thing in life, and that is love.
memories spring heart
There are some delightful places in this world which have a sensual charm for the eyes. One loves them with a physical love. We people who are attracted by the countryside cherish fond memories of certain springs, certain woods, certain ponds, certain hills, which have become familiar sights and can touch our hearts like happy events. Sometimes indeed the memory goes back towards a forest glade, or a spot on a river bank or an orchard in blossom, glimpsed only once on a happy day, but preserved in our heart.
dream art strange
...A strange art – music – the most poetic and precise of all the arts, vague as a dream and precise as algebra.
tomorrow moments hours
If I could, I would stop the passage of time. But hour follows on hour, minute on minute, each second robbing me of a morsel of myself for the nothing of tomorrow. I shall never experience this moment again.
sleep kissing long
We breathe, sleep, drink, eat, work and then die! The end of life is death. What do you long for? Love? A few kisses and you will be powerless. Money? What for? To gratify your desires. Glory? What coems after it all? Death! Death alone is certain.
law doe youth
Killing is decreed by law but nature loves eternal youth. Whatever she does, however unconscious and unfeeling the act, she seems to cry out: 'Quick! Quick! Quick!' And the more she destroys, the more she is renewed.
art bored touching
Conversation. What is it? A Mystery! It's the art of never seeming bored, of touching everything with interest, of pleasing with trifles, of being fascinating with nothing at all.