#ch

On ne voit bien qu'avec le cœur. L'essentiel est invisible pour les yeux. ↗

— Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

#french

There's something about blue eyes. The kind of blue that startles you every time they're lifted in your direction. The kind of blue that makes you ache for them to look at you again. Not the blue green or blue gray, the blue that's just blue. Cricket has those eyes. ↗

— Stephanie Perkins

#french

Language is the source of misunderstandings. ↗

— Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

#language #writer #french

Callipygian. Having shapely buttocks. Nice one, Bridge. ↗

— Stephanie Perkins

#butts #french

He glances down and notices that I'm still wearing a certain blue something, and, this time, it's HIS index finger that wraps underneath MY rubber band. I shiver wonderfully. "I'm never taking it off." Cricket brushes the delicate skin of my wrist. "It'll fall off." "I'll ask you for another one." "I'll give you another one." He smiles and touches his nose to mine. ↗

— Stephanie Perkins

#lola #rubber-bands #french

Fo' shiz. ↗

— Stephanie Perkins

#british #french

We stop at a red light.Mom stares at me."You like him" "OH GOD,MOM." "You do.You like this boy." "He's just a friend.He has a girlfriend." "Anna has a boooy-friend," Seany chants. "I do not!" "ANNA HAS A BOOOY-FRIEND! ↗

— Stephanie Perkins

#anna-and-the-french-kiss #french

But, reader, there is no comfort in the word "farewell," even if you say it in French. "Farewell" is a word that,in any language, is full of sorrow. It is a word that promises absolutely nothing. ↗

— Kate DiCamillo

#good-bye #french

Saw two fallen branches in the shape of a heart. Thought of you. ↗

— Stephanie Perkins

#french

Here sighs and cries and shrieks of lamentation echoed throughout the starless air of Hell; at first these sounds resounding made me weep: tongues confused, a language strained in anguish with cadences of anger, shrill outcries and raucous groans that joined with sounds of hands, raising a whirling storm that turns itself forever through that air of endless black, like grains of sand swirling when a whirlwind blows. And I, in the midst of all this circling horror, began, "Teacher, what are these sounds I hear? What souls are these so overwhelmed by grief?" And he to me: "This wretched state of being is the fate of those sad souls who lived a life but lived it with no blame and with no praise. They are mixed with that repulsive choir of angels neither faithful nor unfaithful to their God, who undecided stood but for themselves. Heaven, to keep its beauty, cast them out, but even Hell itself would not receive them, for fear the damned might glory over them." And I. "Master, what torments do they suffer that force them to lament so bitterly?" He answered: "I will tell you in few words: these wretches have no hope of truly dying, and this blind life they lead is so abject it makes them envy every other fate. The world will not record their having been there; Heaven's mercy and its justice turn from them. Let's not discuss them; look and pass them by... ↗

— Dante Alighieri

#inspiring #anger