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Tuesday, March 28, 2006

No Blood, No Death, Just Balzac

Posted by on March 28 at 10:08 AM

This is another entry from Balzac’s Lost Illusions to welcome your Tuesday and put you in mind of 19th-century France, from the cutthroat drawing rooms of Paris to the basic, dull life of Angouleme. HonorĂ© goes into a tizzy:

Her conversation abounded in superlatives, and the smallest trifles took on vast proportions. At about this time she was beginning to individualise, synthesise, dramatise, superiorise, analyse, poetise, prosify, typify, colossify, angelicise, neologise and tragify—for one must violate the language to describe those novel whims in which some women indulge.

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Flaubert Quotes-

He suffered, poor man, at seeing her so badly dressed, with laceless boots, and the arm-holes of her pinafore torn down to the hips; for the charwoman took no care of her.

She fell back upon the mattress in a convulsion. They all drew near. She was dead.

Of all lies, art is the least untrue.

---Gustave Flaubert

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