Maurice Maeterlinck
Maurice Maeterlinck
Maurice Polydore Marie Bernard MaeterlinckMaeterlinck from 1932; in Belgium, in France; 29 August 1862 – 6 May 1949) was a Belgian playwright, poet, and essayist who was a Fleming, but wrote in French. He was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1911 "in appreciation of his many-sided literary activities, and especially of his dramatic works, which are distinguished by a wealth of imagination and by a poetic fancy, which reveals, sometimes in the guise of a fairy...
NationalityBelgian
ProfessionPlaywright
Date of Birth29 August 1862
CountryBelgium
There is no soul that does not respond to love, for the soul of man is a guest that has gone hungry these centuries back.
No living creature, not even man, has achieved, in the centre of his sphere, what the bee has achieved in her own: and were some one from another world to descend and ask of the earth the most perfect creation of the logic of life, we should needs have to offer the humble comb of honey.
At every crossway on the path that leads to the future, each progressive spirit is opposed by a thousand men appointed to guard the past. Let us have no fear that the fair towers of former days be sufficiently defended. The least that the most timid among us can do is not to add to the immense dead weight that nature drags along.
Men's weaknesses are often necessary to the purposes of life.
What man is there that does not laboriously, though all unconsciously, himself fashion the sorrow that is to be the pivot of his life.
In the world which we know, among the different and primitive geniuses that preside over the evolution of the several species, there exists not one, excepting that of the dog, that ever gave a thought to the presence of man.
At every crossroads on the path that leads to the future, tradition has placed 10,000 men to guard the past.
The future is a world limited by ourselves; in it we discover only what concerns us and, sometimes, by chance, what interests those whom we love the most.
At every crossroad on the way that leads to the future, each progressive spirit is opposed by a thousand men appointed to guard the past.
The dog who meets with a good master is the happier of the two.
The hour of justice does not strike On the dials of this world.
I am moved by the light.
Nothing in the whole world is so athirst for beauty as the soul, nor is there anything to which beauty clings so readily.
No great inner event befalls those who summon it not