Alfred de Musset
Alfred de Musset
Alfred Louis Charles de Musset-Pathaywas a French dramatist, poet, and novelist. Along with his poetry, he is known for writing the autobiographical novel La Confession d'un enfant du siècle...
NationalityFrench
ProfessionWriter
Date of Birth11 December 1810
CountryFrance
wine thinking yield
Oh! my friend, when you feel bursting on your lips the vow of eternal love, do not be afraid to yield, but do not confound wine with intoxication; do not think the cup divine because the draft is of celestial flavor; do not be astonished to find it broken and empty in the evening.
flower heart eye
If you are weak, dependent upon others, inclined to allow yourself to be dominated by opinion, to take root wherever you see a little soil, make for yourself a shield that will resist everything, for if you yield to your weaker nature you will not grow, you will dry up like a dead plant, and you will bear neither fruit nor flowers. The sap of your life will dissipate into the formation of a useless bark; all your actions will be as colorless as the leaves of the willow; you will have no tears to water you, but those from your own eyes, to nourish you, no heart but your own.
dream self ridiculous
I could not clearly distinguish what was passing in my head; it seemed to me that I was under the influence of a horrible dream and that I had but to awake to find myself cured; at times it seemed that my entire life had been a dream, ridiculous and childish, the falseness of which had just been disclosed.
pain rain men
It was one of those somber evenings when the sighing of the wind resembles the moans of a dying man; a storm was brewing, and between the splashes of rain on the windows there was the silence of death. All nature suffers in such moments; the trees writhe in pain and twist their heads; the birds of the fields cower under the bushes; the streets of cities are deserted.
memories earth happy-memories
A happy memory is perhaps on this earth truer than happiness itself.
ideas helping infinite
I can't help it, the idea of the infinite torments me.
brother wine speak
The fumes of wine fermented in my head; it was one of those moments of intoxication when all that ones sees and hears, speaks to one of the adored.... One would willingly embrace all who smile, and one feels that he is brother of all who live.
beautiful witty stupid
What I need is a woman who is something, anything: either very beautiful or very kind or in the last resort very wicked; very witty or very stupid, but something.
men names giving
Experience is the name men give to their follies or their sorrows.
letters matter paper
In love matters; keep your pen from paper.
love trifles
One must not trifle with love
happiness night one-day
Happiness may have but one night, as glory but one day.
memorable two poetry
Each memorable verse of a true poet has two or three times the written content.
too-late world late
I have come too late into a world too old.