Gustave Flaubert Quotes

...the moon that hung over the garden like some great priceless pearl, flawed and blemished with grey shadowy ridges as only a very great beauty can risk being.

The moon rose, an opalescent goddess tipping light from her harsh maternal scimitar.

The moon is fat and the night air is so pure it seems edible.

There's the moon asking to stay long enough for the clouds to fly me away

I see the moon like a clipped piece of silver. Like gilded bees the stars cluster round her.

Stars veil their beauty soon / Beside the glorious moon, / When her full silver light / Doth make the whole earth bright.

The moon, like to a silver bow new bent in heaven.

notice the convulsed orange inch of moon perching on this silver minute of evening

So she sat on the porch and watched the moon rise. Soon its amber fluid was drenching the earth, and quenching the thirst of the day.

How gently rock yon poplars high Against the reach of primrose sky With heaven's pale candles stored.

At night, the moon, a pregnant woman, walks cautiously over the slippery heavens.

A black cat among roses, phlox, lilac-misted under a quarter moon, the sweet smells of heliotrope and night-scented stock. The garden is very still. It is dazed with moonlight, contented with perfume.

And when the fog's over and the stars and the moon come out at night it'll be a beautiful sight.

Even the moon is only poetical because there is a man in the moon.

Fish and fowl, warm sun and shady trees, the field mice in the wheat, under the cool light of the moon.

Out of sight above the house, the mirror moon reflected the sun of a day not yet dawned, shining the pale light of tomorrow on the yard and on the paper birches.

See yonder fire! It is the moon slow rising o'er the eastern hill. It glimmers on the forest tips, and through the dewy foliage drips In little rivulets of light, and makes the heart in love with night.

The moon is swimming naked and the summer night is fragrant with a mighty expectation of relief.

The moon, like a flower in heaven's high bower, with silent delight sits and smiles on the night.

a full moon is a flashlight so everyone can see your drama!

Perhaps the crescent moon smiles in doubt at being told that it is a fragment awaiting perfection.

I suppose there were moonless nights and dark ones with but a silver shaving and pale stars in the sky, but I remember them all as flooded with the rich indolence of a full moon.