One can imagine the look the two lovers exchanged; it was like a flame, for virtuous lovers have not a shred of hypocrisy.
It is as absurd to say that a man can't love one woman all the time as it is to say that a violinist needs several violins to play the same piece of music.
Interpretation
What this quote means
The quote suggests that true love can be constant and undivided, just like a musician can master a single instrument.
Honore De Balzac's quote draws a parallel between love and music, asserting that it is equally unreasonable to believe a man cannot consistently love one woman as it is to claim a violinist requires multiple violins to perform the same piece. This analogy emphasizes the depth and singularity of true love, suggesting that just as a skilled musician can express a range of emotions and nuances with one instrument, a devoted partner can offer unwavering love and commitment to one person.
Themes
In practice
Example use cases
This quote is perfect for a wedding speech highlighting the beauty of enduring love.
More from Honore De Balzac
All quotes →Loyalty in time of need is possibly one of the noblest of victories a courtier can win over himself.
Marriage must incessantly contend with a monster that devours everything: familiarity.
Who is to decide which is the grimmer sight: withered hearts, or empty skulls?
However gross a man may be, the minute he expresses a strong and genuine affection, some inner secretion alters his features, animates his gestures, and colors his voice. The stupidest man will often, under the stress of passion, achieve heights of eloquence, in thought if not in language, and seem to move in some luminous sphere. Goriot's voice and gesture had at this moment the power of communication that characterizes the great actor. Are not our finer feelings the poems of the human will?
Love is a religion, and its rituals cost more than those of other religions. It goes by quickly and, like a street urchin, it likes to mark its passage by a trail of devastation.
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They will say I smoked cigarettes and marijuana, cursed hoarse as a crow in all my languages, and loved morphine and Demerol and tequila and pulque, women and men. I will shrug my illusion of shoulders and answer that I am a water woman, not a vessel, not something you can sail or charter. I am instead the tributary, the river, the fluid source, and the sea itself. I am all her rainy implications. And what do you, with your rusted compass, know of love?
Someone who does not run toward the allure of love walks a road where nothing lives. But this dove here senses the love hawk floating above, and waits, and will not be driven or scared to safety.
Her heart was broken perhaps, but it was a small inexpensive organ of local manufacture. In a wider and grander way she felt things had been simplified.
Time hates love, wants love poor,/but love spins gold, gold, gold from straw.
It was very exciting for her, taking his dignity away in the name of love.