Madame Hivern Quotes

Not all men are the same, you know. With someone such as Gavriel, I would suggest appearing aloof, not chasing too much. He might see that as suffocating rather than charming.
Her words are sharp, but her voice is sweet, like honey on the edge of a blade, and meant to be cutting. I comfort myself with the knowledge that if Duval ever feels smothered by me, it will be because I am holding a pillow over his face and commending his soul to Mortain. ~ R.L. LaFevers

Tombs decked by the arts can scarcely represent death as a formidable enemy; we do not, indeed, like the ancients, carve sports and dances in the sarcophagus, but thought is diverted from the bier by works that tell of immortality, even from the altar of death. ~ Madame De Stael

You love writing; I hate it; and if I had a lover who expected a note from me every morning, I should certainly break with him. Let me beg you then not to measure my friendship by my writing ... ~ Madame De La Fayette

The voice of conscience is so delicate that it is easy to stifle it; but it is also so clear that it is impossible to mistake it. ~ Madame De Stael

My dear Madame, I just noticed that I forgot my cane at your house yesterday; please be good enough to give it to the bearer of this letter. P.S. Kindly pardon me for disturbing you; I just found my cane. ~ Marcel Proust

Love is the whole history of a woman's life, it is but an episode in a man's. ~ Madame De Stael

When you talk to young girls these days about their role modles, very few mention a chemist like Madame Curie or an astrophysicist and astronaut like Sally Ride, or a zoologist like Jane Goodall. Instead, they look to someone like Madonna ... ~ W. Ann Reynolds

Caitlyn, s'il vous plait!" Madame said, whacking the blackboard with her stick, its end pointing to the irregular verb devoir, "to have to." She
wanted Caitlyn to conjugate it.
Caitlyn felt the class's attention turn to her, and a clammy sweat broke out in her armpits. Her brain stopped in its tracks, unable to move under
the pressure. A vague sense of having known how to speak French in her dreams tickled at her brain, but the skill was as lost to her in the waking
world as was Raphael.
"Devoir," Caitlyn croaked. "Er. Je dev? Tu dev?"
Madame gaped at her, horrified.
Caitlyn shook her head; she knew those words were wrong. "Er … I mean, uh …" And then out of nowhere came, "Egli deve, lei dovrebbe …"
These words felt right. He must, she must …
Several girls burst into laughter.
"What?" Caitlyn demanded.
"You're speaking Italian!" one girl shrieked, and collapsed into hysterical giggles. ~ Lisa Cach

I have often noticed that we are inclined to endow our friends with the stability of type that literary characters acquire in the reader's mind. No matter how many times we reopen 'King Lear,' never shall we find the good king banging his tankard in high revelry, all woes forgotten, at a jolly reunion with all three daughters and their lapdogs. Never will Emma rally, revived by the sympathetic salts in Flaubert's father's timely tear. Whatever evolution this or that popular character has gone through between the book covers, his fate is fixed in our minds, and, similarly, we expect our friends to follow this or that logical and conventional pattern we have fixed for them. ~ Vladimir Nabokov

I remember how we clung to our Russia even as she slipped through our fingers like so many grains of sand at the shore where we used to spend the summer. Through it all, I danced, I danced - I was young and impossibly strong. I am called Anastasiya - the springtime, new life. I have created myself again and again, as the phoenix rises from the ashes. But I grow tired. I could go back now, but for what? Everything I loved is gone. I have no country anymore. Our Russia is dead, her people are dead. Perhaps even the melting snows no longer smell the same. She lives within me, perhaps only within me. Those laughing faces, those poignant songs, they have floated up with the incense, disappearing from human recollection.
We were all so young!" -- from "Madame Anastasiya" by Emily Lapisardi (2020) ~ Emily Lapisardi

Madame, you must be gay; only thus can life be endured. I speak from experience for I have had to endure much, and have only been able to endure it because I have always laughed whenever I had the chance. ~ Catherine The Great

You are, madame, so perfectly armoured, so completely sure of yourself.'

'Now I wonder, if I am to take that as a compliment?'

'It is, perhaps, a warning--not to treat life with arrogance. ~ Agatha Christie

Never, never have I been loved as I love others! ~ Madame De Stael

In two thousand years all our generals and politicians may be forgotten, but Einstein and Madame Curie and Bernard Shaw and Stravinsky will keep the memory of our age alive. ~ Anthony Burgess

There are women vain of advantages not connected with their persons, such as birth, rank, and fortune; it is difficult to feel less the dignity of the sex. The origin of all women may be called celestial, for their power is the offspring of the gifts of Nature; by yielding to pride and ambition they soon destroy the magic of their charms. ~ Madame De Stael

Dad once noted (somewhat morbidly, I thought at the time) that American institutions would be infinitely more successful in facilitating the pursuit of knowledge if they held classes at night, rather than in the daytime, from 8:00 PM to 4:00 or 5:00 in the morning. As I ran through the darkness, I understood what he meant. Frank red brick, sunny classrooms, symmetrical quads and courts--it was a setting that mislead kids to believe that Knowledge, that Life itself, was bright, clear, and freshly mowed. Dad said a student would be infinitely better off going out into the world if he/she studied the periodic table of elements, Madame Bovary (Flaubert, 1857), the sexual reproduction of a sunflower for example, with deformed shadows congregating on the classroom walls, the silhouettes of fingers and pencils leaking onto the floor, gastric howls from unseen radiators, and a teacher's face not flat and faded, not delicately pasteled by a golden late afternoon, but serpentine, gargoyled, Cyclopsed by the inky dark and feeble light from a candle. He/she would understand "everything and nothing," Dad said, if there was nothing discernible in the windows but a lamppost mobbed by blaze-crazy moths and darkness, reticent and nonchalant, as darkness always was. ~ Marisha Pessl

Nothing is so horrifying as the possibility of existing simply because we do not know how to die. ~ Madame De Stael

Sometimes on flat boring afternoons, he'd squatted on the curb of St. Deval Street and daydreamed silent pearly snowclouds into sifting coldly through the boughs of the dry, dirty trees. Snow falling in August and silvering the glassy pavement, the ghostly flakes icing his hair, coating rooftops, changing the grimy old neighborhood into a hushed frozen white wasteland uninhabited except for himself and a menagerie of wonder-beasts: albino antelopes, and ivory-breasted snowbirds; and occasionally there were humans, such fantastic folk as Mr Mystery, the vaudeville hypnotist, and Lucky Rogers, the movie star, and Madame Veronica, who read fortunes in a Vieux Carré tearoom. ~ Truman Capote

She never even told me how she felt," Valerie thought aloud, feeling the betrayal in her gut. How had she been so blind? Her sister had loved Henry silently. Did she know about the engagement? Did she overhear our parents planning? Valerie supposed it was possible, but it seemed unlikely since they were always together. Would it have broken her heart?
"Don't worry, you poor child," Madame Lazar said, seeming almost disinterested in the subject of Lucie's death. "I know you're worried about your sister, but Henry always had his eye on you. You are - were always the pretty one. ~ Sarah Blakley-Cartwright

Madame V begins the lesson by reading aloud the first stanza of a famous French poem: Il pleure dans mon coeur Comme il pleut sur la ville; Quelle est cette langueur Qui penetre mon coeur? Then she looks up and without any warning she calls on me to translate it. I swallow hard, and try: "It's raining in my heart like it's raining in the city. What is this sadness that pierces my heart?" Saying these words out loud, right in front of the whole class, makes me feel like I'm not wearing any clothes. ~ Sonya Sones

Doesn't it seem to you," asked Madame Bovary, "that the mind moves more freely in the presence of that boundless expanse, that the sight of it elevates the soul and gives rise to thoughts of the infinite and the ideal? ~ Gustave Flaubert

The mind's pleasures are made to calm the tempests of the heart. ~ Madame De Stael

Frivolity, under whatever form it appears, deprives attention of its power, thought of its originality, and sentiment of its depth. ~ Madame De Stael

[The Germans] so easily confuse obstinacy with energy, and rudeness with firmness. ~ Madame De Stael

A West Virginia 10 is a California 4. Or at least that's what legend tells us: The Legend of Dr. Feelgood. Plastic surgery has a permanent home here, which is why Nancy Pelosi loves our Botoxed beaches. Beverly Hills looks like a moving Madame Tussauds. ~ Ben Shapiro

In the history of the human mind there has never been a useful thought or a profound truth that has not found its century and admirers. ~ Madame De Stael

It was a meal that we shall never forget; more accurately, it was several meals that we shall never forget, because it went beyond the gastronomic frontiers of anything we had ever experienced, both in quantity and length. It started with homemade pizza - not one, but three: anchovy, mushroom, and cheese, and it was obligatory to have a slice of each. Plates were then wiped with pieces torn from the two-foot loaves in the middle of the table, and the next course came out. There were pates of rabbit, boar, and thrush. There was a chunky, pork-based terrine laced with marc. There were saucissons spotted with peppercorns. There were tiny sweet onions marinated in a fresh tomato sauce. Plates were wiped once more and duck was brought in... We had entire breasts, entire legs, covered in a dark, savory gravy and surrounded by wild mushrooms.

We sat back, thankful that we had been able to finish, and watched with something close to panic as plates were wiped yet again and a huge, steaming casserole was placed on the table. This was the specialty of Madame our hostess - a rabbit civet of the richest, deepest brown - and our feeble requests for small portions were smilingly ignored. We ate it. We ate the green salad with knuckles of bread fried in garlic and olive oil, we ate the plump round crottins of goat's cheese, we ate the almond and cream gateau that the daughter of the house had prepared. That night, we ate for England. ~ Peter Mayle

Madame Bellwings, Memoir Elf Coordinator, was not at all pleased with this request, because elves who write the memoirs of teenage girls have the habit of returning to the magical realm with atrocious grammar. They can't seem to shake the phrases "watever" and "no way," and they insert the word like into so many sentences that the other elves start slapping them ... and for no apparent reason occasionally call out the name Edward Cullen. ~ Janette Rallison

The egotism of woman is always for two. ~ Madame De Stael

The greater part of what women write about women is mere sycophancy to man. ~ Madame De Stael

Lord Macon deposited his wife into a chair and then knelt next to her, clutching one of her hands. "Tell me truthfully - how are you feeling?"
Alexia took a breath. "Truthfully? I sometimes wonder if I, like Madame Lefoux, should affect masculine dress."
"Gracious me, why?"
"You mean aside from the issue of greater mobility?"
"My love, I don't think that's currently the result of your clothing."
"Indeed, I mean after the baby."
"I still don't see why should want to."
"Oh no? I dare you to spend a week in a corset, long skirts and a bustle."
"How do you know I haven't? ~ Gail Carriger

French with Madame Fine is reduce to a long series of technical exercises whether we're doing grammar or reading texts. With her it's as if a text was written so that we can identify the characters, the narrator, the setting, the plot, the time of the story, and so on. I don't think it has ever occurred to her that a text is written above all to be read and to arouse emotions in the reader. Can you imagine, she has never even asked us the question: Did you like this book? ~ Muriel Barbery

Guilt is a useless feeling. It's never enough to make you change direction
only enough to make you useless. ~ Daniel Nayeri

That awful cockroach story! The mother chasing her own son away with a broom. Horrible. I was cleaning obsessively for days. Is that typical of this Monsieur Kafka?" "You've summed it up well, Madame. Some people have to study it for decades to get the meaning. ~ Nina George

Atheism exists only in coldness, selfishness, and baseness. ~ Madame De Stael

Madame, it is an old word and each one takes it new and wears it out himself. It is a word that fills with meaning as a bladder with air and the meaning goes out of it as quickly. It may be punctured as a bladder is punctured and patched and blown up again and if you have not had it does not exist for you. All people talk of it, but those who have had it are marked by it, and I would not wish to speak of it further since of all things it is the most ridiculous to talk of and only fools go through it many times. ~ Ernest Hemingway,

Only the refined and delicate pleasures that spring from research and education can build up barriers between different ranks. ~ Madame De Stael

There are those to whom we dare give no sign of the love that we feel for them, except in things that do not touch them directly; and, though one dares not show them that they are loved, one would at least like them to see that one does not wish to be loved by anyone else. One would hope them to know that there is no beauty, whatever her rank in society, whom one would not look upon with indifference, and that there is no crown that one would wish to purchase at the price of not seeing them again. ~ Madame De La Fayette

There are cancers so insidious in their nature that their very pulsation is invisible. Such cancers leave the ivory whiteness of the skin untouched, and marble not the firm, fair flesh, with their blue tints; the physician who bends over the patient's chest hears not, through he listens, the insatiable teeth of the disease grinding its onward progress through the muscles, as the blood flows freely on; the knife has never been able to destroy, and rarely even, temporarily, to discern the rage of these mortal scourges; their home is in the mind, which they corrupt; they fill the whole heart until it breaks. Such, madame, are the cancers, fatal to queens; are you, too, free from their scourge? ~ Alexandre Dumas

Welcome to your very first lesson," she was happy to announce. "Before we begin, I have one question to ask you. Can anyone tell me what the difference is between a wound and a scar? Between weakness and strength? And between hatred and love?"
Emerelda raised her hand. "Is it time?" she asked.
"Correct!" Madame Weatherberry cheered.
"How did you know that?" Tangerina asked.
"She's an hour late and she's dressed in clocks," Emerelda said. "I figured it was a safe bet."
"Time is the most complex device in the universe," Madame Weatherberry went on. "It is both the problem and the solution to most of life's dilemmas. It heals all wounds, but in the end, it takes us all. Unfortunately, time is rarely in anyone's favor. We have too little or too much but never the time we want or need. Sometimes we're born into a time that doesn't value us, and too often, we let those times determine how we value ourselves. So for your first assignment, you are going to get rid of any unfavorable opinions, insecurities, or self-hatred that the times have instilled within you. If we are going to successfully change the world's perspective of us, we must start by hanging our perspective of ourselves. ~ Chris Colfer