One can imagine the look the two lovers exchanged; it was like a flame, for virtuous lovers have not a shred of hypocrisy.
Children, dear and loving children, can alone console a woman for the loss of her beauty.
Interpretation
What this quote means
This quote highlights the special bond between a mother and her children, suggesting they provide solace and joy despite the loss of youthful beauty.
Honore De Balzac's quote reflects the profound relationship between a mother and her children, indicating that the love and affection of children are unparalleled comforts that can heal the emotional wounds of losing one's physical beauty. It suggests that while societal standards may place great value on beauty, the unconditional love and connection with children are what truly enrich a woman's life and bring her the deepest satisfaction and joy.
Themes
In practice
Example use cases
At a mother's day celebration to emphasize the importance of children in a mother's life.
More from Honore De Balzac
All quotes βLoyalty 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.
Similar quotes
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My parents told me from the time I can remember that, 'Yeah, you're adopted. But this is your family.' I can remember my mom, she tells me this story: when I was little, I was looking at her, and I was like, 'Why isn't my skin the same color as yours?' She was like, 'Oh, you're adopted, but I wish I had pretty brown skin like you.'
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I'll be a wife and mother first, then First Lady.
My family and I survived Hurricane Katrina in 2005; we left my grandmother's flooding house, were refused shelter by a white family, and took refuge in trucks in an open field during a Category Five hurricane. I saw an entire town demolished, people fighting over water, breaking open caskets searching for something that could help them survive.
The innocence of such children doesn't answer our deepest questions about this vale of tears to which we are condemned, but it helps to dispel them. That is the secret to family life.