THE RED LILY

A woman is frank when she does not lie
uselessly

A hero must be human.  Napoleon was
human

Anti-Semitism is making fearful
progress everywhere

Brilliancy of a fortune too new

Curious to know her face of that day

Disappointed her to escape the danger
she had feared

Do you think that people have not
talked about us?

Does not wish one to treat it with
either timidity or brutality

Does one ever possess what one loves?

Each had regained freedom, but he did
not like to be alone

Each was moved with self-pity

Everybody knows about that

Fringe which makes an unlovely border
to the city

Gave value to her affability by not
squandering it

He could not imagine that often words
are the same as actions

He studied until the last moment

He is not intelligent enough to doubt

He does not bear ill-will to those whom
he persecutes

He knew now the divine malady of love

Her husband had become quite bearable

His habit of pleasing had prolonged his
youth

(Housemaid) is trained to respect my
disorder

I love myself because you love me

I can forget you only when I am with
you

I wished to spoil our past

I feel in them (churches) the grandeur
of nothingness

I have to pay for the happiness you
give me

I gave myself to him because he loved
me

I haven't a taste, I have tastes

I have known things which I know no
more

I do not desire your friendship

Ideas they think superior to love--
faith, habits, interests

Immobility of time

Impatient at praise which was not
destined for himself

Incapable of conceiving that one might
talk without an object

It was torture for her not to be able
to rejoin him

It is an error to be in the right too
soon

It was too late: she did not wish to
win

Jealous without having the right to be
jealous

Kissses and caresses are the effort of
a delightful despair

Knew that life is not worth so much
anxiety nor so much hope

Laughing in every wrinkle of his face

Learn to live without desire

Let us give to men irony and pity as
witnesses and judges

Life as a whole is too vast and too
remote

Life is made up of just such trifles

Life is not a great thing

Little that we can do when we are
powerful

Love is a soft and terrible force, more
powerful than beauty

Love was only a brief intoxication

Lovers never separate kindly

Made life give all it could yield

Magnificent air of those beggars of
whom small towns are proud

Miserable beings who contribute to the
grandeur of the past

Nobody troubled himself about that
originality

None but fools resisted the current

Not everything is known, but everything
is said

Nothing is so legitimate, so human, as
to deceive pain

One would think that the wind would put
them out: the stars

One who first thought of pasting a
canvas on a panel

One is never kind when one is in love

One should never leave the one whom one
loves

Picturesquely ugly

Recesses of her mind which she
preferred not to open

Relatives whom she did not know and who
irritated her

Seemed to him that men were grains in a
coffee-mill

She pleased society by appearing to
find pleasure in it

She is happy, since she likes to
remember

Should like better to do an immoral
thing than a cruel one

Simple people who doubt neither
themselves nor others

Since she was in love, she had lost
prudence

So well satisfied with his reply that
he repeated it twice

Superior men sometimes lack cleverness

That sort of cold charity which is
called altruism

That if we live the reason is that we
hope

That absurd and generous fury for
ownership

The most radical breviary of scepticism
since Montaigne

The door of one's room opens on the
infinite

The past is the only human reality --
Everything that is, is past

The one whom you will love and who will
love you will harm you

The violent pleasure of losing

The discouragement which the
irreparable gives

The real support of a government is the
Opposition

The politician never should be in
advance of circumstances

There is nothing good except to ignore
and to forget

There are many grand and strong things
which you do not feel

They are the coffin saying: 'I am the
cradle'

To be beautiful, must a woman have that
thin form

Trying to make Therese admire what she
did not know

Umbrellas, like black turtles under the
watery skies

Unfortunate creature who is the
plaything of life

Was I not warned enough of the sadness
of everything?

We are too happy; we are robbing life

What will be the use of having
tormented ourselves in this world

Whether they know or do not know, they
talk

Women do not always confess it, but it
is always their fault

You must take me with my own soul!