Madame Vileroy Quotes

If you don't get caught, you deserve everything you steal. ~ Daniel Nayeri

The world is full of stupid people. That's why we have rules. But with enough intelligence, a person can be above the rules. She can make rules. ~ Daniel Nayeri

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

McCue: Now, Mrs. Margolies, this is Mr. McCue of the City News Bureau - City News Bureau - is it rue, Madame that you were the victim of a peeping tom?
Kruger: Ask her if she's worth peeping at?
Wilson: Has she got a friend? ~ Ben Hecht

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

Thinking back now, I can see we were just at that age when we knew a few things about ourselves - about who we were, how we were different from our guardians, from the people outside - but hadn't yet understood what any of it meant. I'm sure somewhere in your childhood, you too had an experience like ours that day; similar if not in the actual details, then inside, in the feelings. Because it doesn't really matter how well your guardians try to prepare you: all the talksvideos, discussions, warnings, none of that can really bring it home. Not when you're eight years old, and you're all together in a place like Hailsham; when you've got guardians like the ones we had; when the gardeners and the delivery men joke and laugh with you and call you "sweetheart."
All the same, some of it must go in somewhere. It must go in, because by the time a moment like that comes along, there's a part of you that's been waiting. Maybe from as early as when you're five or six, there's been a whisper going at the back of your head, saying: "One day, maybe not so long from now, you'll get to know how it feels." So you're waiting, even if you don't quite know it, waiting for the moment when you realise that you really are different to them; that there are people out there, like Madame, who don't hate you or wish you any harm, but who nevertheless shudder at the very thought of you - of how you were brought into this world and why - and who dread the idea of your hand brushing against theirs ~ Kazuo Ishiguro

I recall having read, at the brothers' instance, Madame Blavatsky's Key to Theosophy. This book stimulated in me the desire to read books on Hinduism, and disabused me of the notion fostered by the missionaries that Hinduism was rife with superstition. ~ Mahatma Gandhi

You stink, taeae. And proper knights don't stink. How can you rescue your fair maiden if she can't stand the smell of you?"
Fighting her own grin, Madame Labelle braced my other side. "Perhaps his fair maiden doesn't need rescuing."
"Perhaps she will rescue him," Victoire called over her shoulder.
"Perhaps they will rescue each other," Violette snapped back.
"Perhaps we will," I murmured, feeling lighter than I'd felt in ages. ~ Shelby Mahurin

What are you doing?" she asked, staring across the table at him.
"It's late and you're as tired as the rest of us. I thought I'd give you a hand with these."
"I'll be blamed," she exclaimed in bewilderment, "if you ain't the darnedest man I've ever had the misfortune to meet."
"Guess you're just lucky then." The corner of his mouth quirked in an irritatingly attractive grin.
"You're also the most aggravating!" she fired back with a grin of her own. "There just ain't no figuring you."
She picked up the heavy tray, but Rider came around the table and took it from her. "Lead the way,madame."
Shaking her head, she headed down the hall to the back door then out to the cookhouse.
Willow filled two basins with warm water from the stove. "You still insist on helping?"
"I do. ~ Charlotte McPherren

[On Napoleon:] One has the impression of an imperious wind blowing about one's ears when one is near that man. ~ Madame De Stael

And all the bustle of departure - sometimes sad, sometimes intoxicating - just as fear or hope may be inspired by the new chances of coming destiny. ~ Madame De Stael

I must confess that in all the times I read Madame Bovary, I never noticed the heroine's rainbow eyes. Should I have? Would you? Was I perhaps too busy noticing things that Dr Starkie was missing (though what they might have been I can't for the moment think)? Put it another way: is there a perfect reader somewhere, a total reader? Does Dr Starkie's reading of Madame Bovary contain all the responses which I have when I read the book, and then add a whole lot more, so that my reading is in a way pointless? Well, I hope not. My reading might be pointless in terms of the history of literary criticism; but it's not pointless in terms of pleasure. I can't prove that lay readers enjoy books more than professional critics; but I can tell you one advantage we have over them. We can forget. Dr Starkie and her kind are cursed with memory: the books they teach and write about can never fade from their brains. They become family. Perhaps this is why some critics develop a faintly patronising tone towards their subjects. They act as if Flaubert, or Milton, or Wordsworth were some tedious old aunt in a rocking chair, who smelt of stale powder, was only interested in the past, and hadn't said anything new for years. Of course, it's her house, and everybody's living in it rent free; but even so, surely it is, well, you know…time?
Whereas the common but passionate reader is allowed to forget; he can go away, be unfaithful with other writers, come back and be entranced again. Domesticity ~ Julian Barnes

And what have you laymen made of hell? A kind of penal servitude for eternity, on the lines of your convict prisons on earth, to which you condemn in advance all the wretched felons your police have hunted from the beginning - enemies of society, as you call them. You're kind enough to include the blasphemers and the profane. What proud or reasonable man could stomach such a notion of God's justice? And when you find that notion inconvenient it's easy enough for you to put it on one side. Hell is not to love any more, Madame. Not to love any more! ~ Georges Bernanos

The more we know the better we forgive. Whoever feels deeply, feels for all who live. ~ Madame De Stael

For the next half-hour or so there was nothing to be done but sit and suffer it. We had Madame Tetrazzini trilling about the hissing and sissing of the needle, like a princess at the back of a cave with the sea monster snuffling outside it. We had Señor Caruso searching bravely for The Lost Chord in a forest of alien English vowel sounds. We had McCormack's Kathleen Mavourneen, Clara Butt longing for her Ain Folk in accents suggesting that they might be found somewhere south of Hyde Park, a tenor whose name I forgot summoning Jerusalem, Jerusalem, and everybody looking devout over their empty teacups. ~ Gillian Linscott

Andre had been telling her an ancient legend of the fall of man into evil. It came about, he said, by the hand of a woman, Eve, who gave man forbidden fruit.
"And how was this woman to know that the fruit was forbidden?" Madame Wu had inquired.
"An evil spirit, in the shape of a serpent, whispered it to her," Andre had said.
"Why to her instead of to the man?" she had inquired.
"Because he knew that her mind and her heart were fixed not upon the man, but upon the pursuance of life," he had replied. "The man's mind and heart were fixed upon himself. He was happy enough, dreaming that he possessed the woman and the garden. Why should he be tempted further? He had all. But the woman could always be tempted by the thought of a better garden, a larger space, more to possess, because she knew that out of her body would come many more beings, and for them she plotted and planned. The woman thought not of herself, but of the many whom she would create. For their sake she was tempted. For their sake she will always be tempted. ~ Pearl S. Buck

There is not enough interest in life to spread over twenty-four hours when one can't sleep. ~ Madame De Stael

Emily looked over at Courtney. He was still asleep.
For a long time she had thought that if you loved anyone you had to tell him everything: go to him and confess as in the dream; there could be no secrets. But now in the dark of early morning with the copper bottle cold against her fee she felt that this desire to tell all was simply an evasion of responsibility, a weakness in wanting to push on to the person you love something that is your own responsibility to solve. It would be easier for her to tell Courtney all about Abe, to come to him as he sat at this desk in the chill little workroom and confess, to hand the responsibility for her ambivalence to him, to let him settle the problem of her puny conscience for her.
But I know, she thought, lying there beside him on Madame Pedroti's lumpy bed, that if I love Courtney that is the last thing I must do. If I love Courtney he must never know. ~ Madeleine L'Engle

Between God and love, I recognize no mediator but my conscience ... ~ Madame De Stael

Loud voices were heard from upstairs. Madame Kushkin is in a fit, most likely, or else she has ~ Anton Chekhov

Speak, Madame; speak, queen," said Buckingham. "The softness of your voice covers the hardness of your words. You speak of sacrilege, but the sacrilege is in the separation of hearts that God has formed for each other! ~ Alexandre Dumas

He had come abroad to enjoy the Flemish painters and all others; but what fair-tressed saint of Van Eyck or Memling was so interesting a figure as Madame de Mauves? ~ Henry James

In the Blue Room, Cora Cash was trying to concentrate on her book. Cora found most novels hard to sympathise with -- all those plain governesses -- but this one had much to recommend it. The heroine was 'handsome, clever, and rich', rather like Cora herself. Cora knew she was handsome -- wasn't she always referred to in the papers as 'the divine Miss Cash'? She was clever -- she could speak three languages and could handle calculus. And as to rich, well, she was undoubtedly that. Emma Woodhouse was not rich in the way that she, Cora Cash, was rich. Emma Woodhouse did not lie on a lit à la polonaise once owned by Madame du Barry in a room which was, but for the lingering smell of paint, an exact replica of Marie Antoinette's bedchamber at le petit Trianon. Emma Woodhouse went to dances at the Assembly Rooms, not fancy dress spectaculars in specially built ballrooms. But Emma Woodhouse was motherless which meant, thought Cora, that she was handsome, clever, rich and free. ~ Daisy Goodwin

If you break this door you will find me dead on the threshold."
And be easy, madame, you shall be revenged," said Bussy. ~ Alexandre Dumas

In matters of the heart, nothing is true except the improbable. ~ Madame De Stael

Good taste cannot supply the place of genius in literature, for the best proof of taste, when there is no genius, would be, not to write at all. ~ Madame De Stael

The feeble howl with the wolves, bray with the asses, and bleat with the sheep. ~ Madame Roland

When I was 12 years old, I read 'Nancy Drew' mysteries and biographies of Madame Curie and Florence Nightingale and books about girls who love horses or go to nursing school. I belonged to the Girl Scouts and got A's in school and rarely disobeyed my parents. I still kept a collection of Barbie dolls in my room, and I almost never spoke to boys. ~ Joyce Maynard

She too looked like a regular lady, living in the world- didn't seem particularly with it or excitable or stellar. But that chicken, bathed in thyme and butter- I hadn't ever tasted a chicken that had such a savory warmth to it, a taste I could only suitably identify as the taste of chicken. Somehow, in her hands, food felt recognized. Spinach became spinach- with a good farm's care, salt, the heat and her attention, it seemed to relax into its leafy, broad self. Garlic seized upon its lively nature. Tomatoes tasted as substantive as beef. ~ Aimee Bender

Dear Madame Morgenstern,
As absurd as it sounds, I've been thinking of you since we parted. I want to take you into my arms, tell you a million things, ask you a million questions. I want to touch your throat and unbutton the pearl button at your neck ~ Julie Orringer

It seems to me that we become more dear one to the other, in together admiring works of art, which speak to the soul by their true grandeur. ~ 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

Whatever efforts one may make, one must revert to the realization that religion is the real basis of morality; religion is the real and perceptible purpose within us, which alone, can turn aside our attention from things ... The science of morality can no more teach human beings to be honest, in all the magnificence of this word, than geometry can teach one how to draw. ~ Madame De Stael

It does not take a long time," said madame, "for an earthquake to swallow a town. Eh well! Tell me how long it takes to prepare the earthquake? ~ Charles Dickens

Madame Bovary is myself. ~ Gustave Flaubert

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

ground-growing shrub rather like a small azalea,' Madame is explaining when I return ~ Carol Drinkwater

People are bound to think that you have corrupted me with your worldly ways, and that you have stolen my heart from my wife."
"Well, haven't I?" she said, capturing his bishop. He waited for her to look up at him. After a moment she did.
"Madame, that which is not possessed by one, can never be stolen my another. My soul belonged to you long before she ever set foot in France.? ~ Diane Haeger

Madame Montoni's sufferings, at length, rose above her pride, and, when Emily had before entered the room, she would have told them all, had not her husband prevented her; now that she was no longer restrained by his presence, she poured forth all her complaints to her niece. "O Emily!" she exclaimed, "I am the most wretched of women - I am indeed cruelly treated! Who, with my prospects of happiness, could have foreseen such a wretched fate as this? - who could have thought, when I married such a man as the Signor, I should ever have to bewail my lot? But there is no judging what is for the best - there is no knowing what is for our good! The most flattering prospects often change - the best judgments may be deceived - who could have foreseen, when I married the Signor, that I should ever repent my GENEROSITY?" Emily ~ Eliza Parsons

You know, I've never known much about fashion, living in the country and all," she said innocently. "What sort of hat would a lady like myself wear to an afternoon tea outside, in the garden, with other ladies? Assuming I'm ever invited, of course."
"Oh, that's easy... a lovely straw number, with a wide brim, en grecque curls if you're dining amongst the ruins, or piles of flowers and feathers, and tipped, just so..."
Belle allowed herself a little smile.
"No one has worn hats like that, even in this remote part of the world, for at lest ten years. Not even Madame Bussard has pulled one out of her own wardrobe recently. And she is very thrifty with her accessories. So whatever happened here must have happened at least a decade ago. ~ Liz Braswell