#french

The revolutionary Terror, which is attacked for its revolutionary tribunal, its law of suspects and its guillotine, was a process welded to a regime of popular sovereignty in which the object was to conquer tyranny or die for liberty. This Terror was willed by those who, having won sovereign power by dint of insurrection, refused to let this be destroyed by counter-revolutionary enemies ↗

— Sophie Wahnich

#philosophy #revolution #terrorism #the-terror #death

There is death in the folds of her skirt and blood about her feet. She is for no man. ↗

— Joseph Conrad

#reign-of-terror #the-rover #death

Just think, she said to herself. I could be living on the Right Bank. I could be married to a senior clerk at the Treasury. I could be sitting with my feet up, embroidering a linen handkerchief with a rambling-rose design. Instead I'm on the rue des Cordeliers in pursuit of a baguette, with a three-inch blade for comfort. ↗

— Hilary Mantel

#humour #design

Ceux qui revent eveilles ont conscience de 1000 choses qui echapent a ceux qui ne revent qu'endormis. The one who has day dream are aware of 1000 things that the one who dreams only when he sleeps will never understand. (it sounds better in french, I do what I can with my translation...) ↗

— Edgar Allan Poe

#endormi #french #poe #rêve #dreams

Liberty, equality, fraternity, or death; - the last, much the easiest to bestow, O Guillotine! ↗

— Charles Dickens

#death

Je ne peux être juste pour les livres qui traitent de la femme en tant que femme... Mon idée c'est que tous, aussi bien hommes que femmes, qui que nous sayons, nous devons être considérés comme d'êtres humaines. ↗

— Dorothy Parker

#french #gender-equality #equality

The French are like a coin with a different face on either side of it (every coin has two faces), for every action there is an equally strong opposing idea that vibrates on the other end within them like the receiving side of a series of ripples in a pond. But this is all happening within themselves. The French are exactly like their own language: there are too many letters but then you're not supposed to pronounce them! ↗

— C. JoyBell C.

#equality

To call the population of strangers in the midst of which we live "society" is such a usurpation that even the sociologists wonder if they should abandon a concept that was, for a century, their bread and butter. Now they prefer the metaphor of a network to describe the connection of cybernetic solitudes, the intermeshing of weak interactions under names like "colleague," "contact," "buddy," acquaintance," or "date." Such networks sometimes condense into a milieu, where nothing is shared but codes, and where nothing is played out except the incessant recomposition of identity. ↗

— The Invisible Committee

#french #revolt #revolution #dating

The supposedly eyewitness authority of the Pseudo-Turpin finds a parallel in another genre in which vernacular prose was pioneered: that of the historical memoir. There were twelfth-century verse histories narrated by authors who had personally participated in the events they describe, such as the Third Crusade. But the Fourth Crusade of 1202-4 saw a switch to prose. This shameful fiasco, in which the crusaders were induced to turn aside from the Holy Land and attack instead the Christian city of Constantinople, inspired two contrasting accounts. Robert de Clari--ignorant of higher-level strategy, but all agog at the splendours of Constantinople--gives a worm's eye view. Geoffroi de Villehardouin, by contrast, has a top diplomat's suave authority and a leader's eye for the aesthetics of war--the splendid sight of a fleet, or the noble heroism of a ruler. For both authors the medium of prose seems to convey the purported authenticity and transparency of lived experience. ↗

— Sarah Cay Terence Cave Malcolm Bowie

#prose-versus-verse #experience

Esquire, in a July, 1957 issue, has a photograph of me playing the French horn at the Five Spot. ↗

— David Amram

#five #french #french horn #horn #issue