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"One never tires of what is well written, style is life! It is the very blood of thought!"
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"To knock a thing down, especially if it is cocked at an arrogant angle, is a deep delight of the blood."
"Playwriting gets into your blood and you can't stop it. At least not until the producers or the public tell you to."
"It's hard to think what should make your blood boil more - what happened to Billy Ray or what didn't happen to those who abused him. It's something we can't ignore."
"Then I heard another shot which hit him right in the head, over here, and his head practically opened up and a lot of blood and many more things came out."
"There are two times of the year that stir the blood. In the fall, for the hunt, and now for lacrosse."
"Like a cyclone, imperialism spins across the globe; militarism crushes peoples and sucks their blood like a vampire."
"When I jerked it out the head remained in my leg, where it remains still. There were a couple of inches of blood on the shaft of the arrow when I pulled it out."
Explore more quotes by Gustave Flaubert
"Leon was weary of loving without any result; moreover he was beginning to feel that depression caused by the repetition of the same kind of life, when no interest inspires and no hope sustains it. He was so bored with Yonville and its inhabitants, that the sight of certain persons, of certain houses, irritated him beyond endurance; and the chemist, good fellow though he was, was becoming absolutely unbearable to him. Yet the prospect of a new condition of life frightened as much as it seduced him."
"At the bottom of her heart, however, she was waiting for something to happen. Like shipwrecked sailors, she turned despairing eyes upon the solitude of her life, seeking afar off some white sail in the mists of the horizon. She did not know what this chance would be, what wind would bring it her, towards what shore it would drive her, if it would be a shallop or a three-decker, laden with anguish or full of bliss to the portholes. But each morning, as she awoke, she hoped it would come that day; she listened to every sound, sprang up with a start, wondered that it did not come; then at sunset, always more saddened, she longed for the morrow."
"It's hard to communicate anything exactly and that's why perfect relationships between people are difficult to find."
"The artist must be in his work as God is in creation, invisible and all-powerful; one must sense him everywhere but never see him."
"You forget everything. The hours slip by. You travel in your chair through centuries you seem seem to see before you, your thoughts are caught up in the story, dallying with the details or following the course of the plot, you enter into characters, so that it seems as if it were your own heart beating beneath their costumes."
"Oh, if I had been loved at the age of seventeen, what an idiot I would be today. Happiness is like smallpox: if you catch it too soon, it can completely ruin your constitution."
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