One can imagine the look the two lovers exchanged; it was like a flame, for virtuous lovers have not a shred of hypocrisy.
Honore De BalzacRead
At fifteen, beauty and talent do not exist; there can only be promise of the coming woman.
Interpretation
Youth holds potential but not yet fulfilled beauty or talent.
In this quote, Balzac reflects on the nature of youth, suggesting that at the age of fifteen, what one possesses is not the full realization of beauty or talent. Instead, this period symbolizes a stage of promise and potential, indicating that true beauty and talent mature over time as an individual develops into adulthood.
In practice
This quote can inspire a group of young students during a motivational talk about their future.
One can imagine the look the two lovers exchanged; it was like a flame, for virtuous lovers have not a shred of hypocrisy.
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.
You must find your dream...but no dream lasts forever, each dream is followed by another, and one should not cling to any particular dream.
I trust that age doth not wither nor custom stale my infinite variety.
When you resolve to become pious, the devil in your nature cries out at you, "Tread not those paths, O confused one; distress and poverty will overcome you. You will be despised, let down by friends, you will regret it." Dread of the devil has bound their souls; the cries of the devil are the drover of the damned; the call of the Lord is a guardian of the saints.
I've found, in my own writing, that a little hatred, keenly directed, is a useful thing.
If it turns out that there are emotions and values that are more numerous and more vibrant than indifference and hatred, things are going to be okay. That depends on us.
Regret is useless in life. It's in the past. All we have is now.
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