Bonjour Tristesse Quotes

On a Parisienne's Bookshelf
THERE ARE MANY BOOKS ON A PARISIENNE'S BOOKSHELF:

The books you so often claim you've read that you actually believe you have.
The books you read in school from which you remember only the main character's name.
The art books your parents give you each Christmas so you can get some "culture".
The art books that you bought yourself and which you really love.
The books that you've been promising yourself you'll read next summer … for the past ten years.
The books you bought only because you liked the title.
The books that you think makes you cool.
The books you read over and over again, and that evolve along with your life.
The books that remind you of someone you loved.
The books you keep for your children, just in case you ever have any.
The books whose first ten pages you've read so many times you know them by heart.
The books you own simply because you must and, taken together, form intangible proof that you are well read.
AND THEN THERE ARE THE BOOKS YOU HAVE READ, LOVED, AND WHICH ARE A PART OF YOUR IDENTITY:

The Stranger, Albert Camus
The Elementary Particles, Michel Houellebecq
Belle du Seigneur, Albert Cohen
Bonjour Tristesse, Françoise Sagan
Madame Bovary, Gustave Flaubert
L'Écume des jours, Boris Vian
Lolita, Vladimir Nabokov
Les Fleurs du Mal, Charles Baudelaire
Journey to the End of the Night, Louis-Ferdinand C ~ Caroline De Maigret

Only, when I am in bed, at dawn, when all that can be heard in Paris is the sound of cars, my memory betrays me: summer, with everything I remember of it, comes flooding back. Anne, Anne! I repeat that name very softly to myself, over and over in the dark. Then something stirs within me with eyes closed, I greet by its name, sadness: Bonjour tristesse. ~ Francoise Sagan

Farewell Sadness
Hello Sadness
You are inscribed in the lines on the ceiling
You are inscribed in the eyes that I love
You are not poverty absolutely
Since the poorest of lips denounce you
Ah with a smile
Bonjour Tristesse
Love of kind bodies
Power of love
From which kindness rises
Like a bodiless monster
Unattached head
Sadness beautiful face. ~ Paul Eluard

I dreamt of being a writer once I started to read. I started to write 'Bonjour Tristesse' in bistros around the Sorbonne. I finished it, I sent it to editors. It was accepted. ~ Francoise Sagan

For what are we looking for if not to please? I do not know if the desire to attract others comes from a superabundance of vitality, possessiveness, or the hidden, unspoken need to be reassured. ~ Francoise Sagan

Tables of Contents Introduction Chapter 1 Bonjour, France! Chapter 2 Numbers and Gender Chapter 3 Plural Forms of Nouns Chapter 4 Pronouns Chapter 5 Verbs Chapter 6 Prepositions Chapter 7 Useful Expressions Preview Of'Spanish For Beginners' Check Out My Other Books Conclusion ~ Manuel De Cortes

If addressing a single woman, use "Bonjour, mademoiselle." When I asked a Frenchman how one might discern the difference, he told me to use mademoiselle to address women who haven't had sex yet. I don't know how one can tell, but he assured me that Frenchmen can. ~ Anonymous

An accurate accent is powerful because it is the ultimate gesture of empathy. It connects you to another person's culture in a way that words never can, because you have bent your body as well as your mind to match that person's culture. Anyone can learn "bawn-JURE" in a few seconds. To learn how bonjour fits your companion's mouth and tongue; to learn how to manipulate the muscles, the folds, and even the texture of your throat and lips to match your companion's -- this is an unmistakable, undeniable, and irresistable gesture of care. ~ Gabriel Wyner

There's no word for it in English. Like tristesse, flaneur, or la douler exquise, words full of gray. The French do ambiguity so much better than Americans. Our language relies on fixedness because that's what the market demands. A commodity must always be identifiable. ~ Stephanie Danler

In the depths of darkness the sun
never shows, cold and empty with no hope.

On the surface it warms your soul, and all the toxic energy settles below. ~ Tristesse Genevieve

The pressure is on. They've teased me all week, because I've avoided anything that requires ordering. I've made excuses (I'm allergic to beef," "Nothing tastes better than bread," Ravioli is overrated"), but I can't avoid it forever.Monsieur Boutin is working the counter again. I grab a tray and take a deep breath.
"Bonjour, uh...soup? Sopa? S'il vous plait?"
"Hello" and "please." I've learned the polite words first, in hopes that the French will forgive me for butchering the remainder of their beautiful language. I point to the vat of orangey-red soup. Butternut squash, I think. The smell is extraordinary, like sage and autumn. It's early September, and the weather is still warm. When does fall come to Paris?
"Ah! soupe.I mean,oui. Oui!" My cheeks burn. "And,um, the uh-chicken-salad-green-bean thingy?"
Monsieur Boutin laughs. It's a jolly, bowl-full-of-jelly, Santa Claus laugh. "Chicken and haricots verts, oui. You know,you may speek Ingleesh to me. I understand eet vairy well."
My blush deepends. Of course he'd speak English in an American school. And I've been living on stupid pears and baquettes for five days. He hands me a bowl of soup and a small plate of chicken salad, and my stomach rumbles at the sight of hot food.
"Merci," I say.
"De rien.You're welcome. And I 'ope you don't skeep meals to avoid me anymore!" He places his hand on his chest, as if brokenhearted. I smile and shake my head no. I can do this. I can do this. I can-
Stephanie Perkins

Bonjour, Monsieur Fraser. She inclined her veil gracefully, more to hide the broad smile on her face than in greeting, I thought. I see you have made the acquaintance of Bouton. Are you perhaps in search of your wife?
This seeming to be my cue, I sidled out of the office door behind her. My devoted spouse glanced from Bouton to the office door, plainly drawing conclusions.
And just how long have ye been standin' there,Sassenach? he asked dryly. Long enough, I said, with the smug self-assurance of one in Bouton's good books. ~ Diana Gabaldon

Ladies, bonjour. My name's Madame Fi-Fi." Her French
accent was thick, and I could hardly understand a word she was
saying. "Welcome to the Gay Paris."
We both sniggered under our breaths, immature I know;
Madame Fi-Fi gave us a stern look.
"You are the new dancers?" she asked, sounding pretty
disappointed. "You looked taller in your pictures"
"Erm…" Fran smiled. "We were wearing high heels." Fran got
on her tiptoes and fell over and knocked over a coatrack.
Great first impressions. ~ Sophie Wilkinson

[French] Parents see it as their job to bring the child around to appreciating this [food]. They believe that just as they must teach a child how to sleep, how to wait, and how to say bonjour, they must teach her how to eat. ~ Pamela Druckerman

The only thing to do is simply continue
is that simple
yes, it is simple because it is the only thing to do
can you do it
yes, you can because it is the only thing to do ~ Frank O'Hara

... and surely we shall not continue to be unhappy
we shall be happy
but we shall continue to be ourselves everything
continues to be possible ~ Frank O'Hara

Cockroaches are survivors. Turn on the lights and you will see a scattering of casino hosts in three thousand dollar bespoken suits, corporate fruit flies in empty suits, lawyer-class slime on their way to the courthouse to go shopping for other people's money, bankers shilling bad loans by bundling them together with good ones and sending them down the financial pipeline knowing that they stand protected by the political scum from every level of government who have risen to breathtaking heights of mediocrity, tossing a couple of bucks from the public till to the obedient myrmidons in exchange for their votes. While decaying empire crumble, cockroaches multiply among the ruins. - Bonjour Amigos ~ David Gustafson