Francois Mauriac
Francois Mauriac
François Charles Mauriacwas a French novelist, dramatist, critic, poet, and journalist, a member of the Académie française, and laureate of the Nobel Prize in Literature. He was awarded the Grand Cross of the Légion d'honneur in 1958...
NationalityFrench
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth11 October 1885
CountryFrance
men mysterious pleasure
The scapegoat has always had the mysterious power of unleashing man's ferocious pleasure in torturing, corrupting, and befouling.
light sprung-up secret
It seems that, after nineteen centuries of extraordinary glorification, the small Host for which so many cathedrals have sprung up, the small Host that has rested in millions of breasts and that has found a tabernacle and worshippers even in the desert - it seems that the triumphant Host of Lourdes and the Eucharistic Congresses of Chicago and Carthage remains as unknown, as secret as when it appeared for the first time in a room in Jerusalem. Light is in the world as in the days of St. John the Baptist, and the world does not know it
writing creative suits
I write whenever it suits me. During a creative period I write every day; a novel should not be interrupted. When I cease to be carried along, when I no longer feel as though I were taking down dictation, I stop.
names law flora
Every novel worthy of the name is like another planet, whether large or small, which has its own laws just as it has its own flora and fauna.
real taken temples
The temples of those who deny the Real Presence are like corpses. The Lord was taken away and we do not know where they have laid Him.
song lying men
The grandeur of man lies in song, not in thought.
alliances protection recess
The Eucharist engages us unreservedly; it is a pact of love, an alliance signed in the deeper recesses of our being. All our potentialities are called upon to warrant the protection and fulfillment of this pact.
best-friend tired ironic
Did you ever have a conversation with someone who misunderstood everything you had to say? It's exhausting, and the ironic part is that the more you try and explain yourself, the more mixed up things become. Your best friend knows when you're kidding, venting, and tired. He or she knows you and therefore doesn't read into the things you say.
men wings rooms
Men resemble great deserted palaces: the owner occupies only a few rooms and has closed-off wings where he never ventures.
blood flesh sun
This God who, as the psalmist said, built His tabernacles in the sun, now establishes Himself in the very core of the flesh and the blood.
men house grace
The man who partakes in the breaking of the bread dares to build his house on the very core of love. He becomes, as it were, Godlike, but regardless of the strength he derives from it, his free will remains. We are always free to disown this immense grace, to abuse it. The Greatest Love may be betrayed. Fed on the Living Bread, we nevertheless conceal a part of ourselves which longs for swine's food.
inspirational book reading
If you would tell me the heart of a man, tell me not what he reads, but what he rereads.
world cemetery burial
A cemetery saddens us because it is the only place of the world in which we do not meet our dead again.
reading choices source
There is no accident in our choice of reading. All our sources are related.