#french

You'll be so busy with Bridge and what's-his-name that you'll forget all about your English mate, St. Clair." "Ha! So you are English!" I poke him in the stomach. He grabs my hand and we wrestle, laughing. "I claim... no... nationality. ↗

— Stephanie Perkins

#anna-and-the-french-kiss #étienne-st-clair #business

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

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

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

I go to seek a Great Perhaps. ↗

— François Rabelais

#french-renaissance-writer #john-green #last-words #life #looking-for-alaska

I was deeply interested in the little family history which he detailed to me with all that candor which a Frenchman indulges whenever mere self is the theme. ↗

— Edgar Allan Poe

#humor #family

And I realize ... it’s okay. It’s okay if St. Clair and I never become more than friends. His friendship alone has strengthened me in a way that no one else’s ever has. He swept me from my room and showed me independence. In other words, he was exactly what I needed. I won’t forget it. And I certainly don’t want to lose it. ↗

— Stephanie Perkins

#anna-and-the-french-kiss #etienne #st-clair #friendship

You will find this to be a more oniony soup than the usual kind but, as the cross old lady said when a stranger told her that her slip was showing, "I like it that way. ↗

— Margaret Yardley Potter

#french-onion-soup #home