Am presently reading Francoise Sagan's "The Painted Lady" -- a funny, heartbreaking book. Came across these lines mentioned right at the start, and wanted to share them:
"What importance can we attach to the things of this world? Friendship? It disappears when the one who is liked comes to grief, or when the one who likes becomes powerful. Love? It is deceived, fleeting, or guilty. Fame? You share it with mediocrity or crime. Fortune? Could that frivolity be called a blessing? All that remains are those so-called happy days which flow past unnoticed in the obscurity of domestic cares, leaving man with the desire neither to lose his life nor to begin it over."
--Chateaubriand, Vie de Rance
3 comments:
such smooth words. yet so cynical, a bit hopeless.
It is kind of depressing, but it got me thinking.
I read it a long time ago, but it still haunts me... It is depressing - but so are the facts of Life.
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