#french

If there were no Frenchwomen, life wouldn't be worth living. ↗

— Friedrich Engels

#french #marx #women #life

Ma vie est une énigme dont ton nom est le mot. (My life is an enigma, of which your name is the word.) ↗

— Victor Hugo

#victor-hugo #life

Etre dans le vent, c'est avoir le destin des feuilles mortes. ↗

— Jean Guitton

#life #philosophy #life

I love the French edition with its uncut pages. I would not want a reader too lazy to use a knife on me. ↗

— Lawrence Durrell

#knife #uncut #love

So it was perfectly possible that there were men who liked shopping, men who understood exactly what it was all about, but Mma Ramotwe had yet to meet such a man. Maybe they existed elsewhere - in France, perhaps - but they did not seem to be much in evidence in Botswana. ↗

— Alexander McCall Smith

#humour #mma-ramotswe #men

They establish distinctions and reserves which I cannot apply to myself, for I exist only as a whole; my only claim is to be natural, and the pleasure I feel in an action, I take as a sign that I ought to do it. ↗

— André Gide

#nature

I did not want to be taken for a fool – the typical French reason for performing the worst of deeds without remorse. ↗

— Jules-Amédée Barbey d'Aurevilly

#french #remorse #respect #respect

Maitre D' : I appreciate your understanding. Ferris: Don't think twice. It's understanding that makes it possible for people like us to tolerate a person like yourself. ↗

— John Hughes

#pretention #pretentiousness #respect #restaurants #snobbery

Oh my. He's English. "Er. Does Mer live here?" Seriously, I don't know any American girl who can resist an English accent. The boy clears his throat. "Meredith Chevalier? Tall girl? Big, curly hair?" Then he looks at me like I'm crazy or half deaf, like my Nana Oliphant. Nanna just smiles and shakes her head whenever I ask, "What kind of salad dressing would you like?" or "Where did you put Granddad's false teeth?" "I'm sorry." He takes the smallest step away from me. "You were going to bed." "Yes! Meredith lives here. I've just spent two hours with her." I announce this proudly like my little brother, Seany, whenever he finds something disgusting in the yard. "I'm Anna! I'm new here!" Oh, [Gosh]. What. Is with. The scary enthusiasm? My cheeks catch fire, and it's all so humiliating. The beautiful boy gives an amused grin. His teeth are lovely - straight on top and crooked on the bottom, with a touch of overbite. I'm a sucker for smiles like this, due to my own lack of orthodontia. I have a gap between my front teeth the size of a raisin. "Étienne," he says. "I live one floor up." "I live here." I point dumbly at my room while my mind whirs: French name, English accent, American school. Anna confused. He raps twice on Meredith's door. "Well. I'll see you around then, Anna." Eh-t-yen says my name like this: Ah-na. ↗

— Stephanie Perkins

#beauty

The English language is like London: proudly barbaric yet deeply civilised, too, common yet royal, vulgar yet processional, sacred yet profane. Each sentence we produce, whether we know it or not, is a mongrel mouthful of Chaucerian, Shakespearean, Miltonic, Johnsonian, Dickensian and American. Military, naval, legal, corporate, criminal, jazz, rap and ghetto discourses are mingled at every turn. The French language, like Paris, has attempted, through its Academy, to retain its purity, to fight the advancing tides of Franglais and international prefabrication. English, by comparison, is a shameless whore. ↗

— Stephen Fry

#french #humour #language #london #paris