The more you approach infinity, the deeper you penetrate terror
Isn’t ‘not to be bored’ one of the principal goals of life?
A memory is a beautiful thing, it's almost a desire that you miss.
Madame Bovary is myself.
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.
The hearts of women are like those little pieces of furniture with secret hiding - places, full of drawers fitted into each other; you go a lot of trouble, break your nails, and in the bottom find some withered flower, a few grains of dust - or emptiness!