Gustave Flaubert Quotes

The problem of suffering is: why is there the suffering we know?

No one recovers from the disease of being born, a deadly wound if there ever was one.

But how to explain suffering because of a man? It's not explainable. With that kind of suffering, a person feels as if they're in hell, because there is no nobility, no greatness - only misery.

I could believe only in the hell I was living in, a hell on earth, and it was man-made, not God-made.

To be, or not to be, that is the question: Whether 'tis Nobler in the mind to suffer The Slings and Arrows of outrageous Fortune, Or to take Arms against a Sea of troubles, And by opposing end them: to die, to sleep No more; and by a sleep, to say we end The Heart-ache, and the thousand Natural shocks That Flesh is heir to? 'Tis a consummation Devoutly to be wished. To die to sleep, To sleep, perchance to Dream; Aye, there's the rub.

Nonexistence never hurt anyone. Existence hurts everyone.

What else are our lives but a story we tell ourselves to find some sense in the pain ofliving?

Of course, living is another way of killing oneself: its drawback is that it takes so horribly long.

What do you do from morning to night?" "I endure myself.

There are moments when, even to the sober eye of Reason, the world of our sad humanity must assume the aspect of Hell.

I have spent my life falling. Not the kind that Tiny's talking about. He's talking about love. I'm talking about life. In my kind of falling, there's no landing. There's only hitting the ground. Hard. Dead, or wanting to be dead. So the whole time you're falling, it's the worst feeling in the world. Because you feel you have no control over it. Because you know how it ends.

All the Hennessy and weed can't hide, the pain i feel inside, its like I'm living just to die.

Thus Dante's motto over Inferno applies with equal force to marriage: "Ye who enter here leave all hope behind.

It is the lot of man to suffer.

I saw my own blood and I thought, how could I live in a world where this exists- where love can become death?

This long disease, my life.

Slept, awoke, slept, awoke, miserable life.

I think Nature, if she interests herself much about her children, must often feel that, like the miserable Frankenstein, with her experimenting among the elements of humanity, she has brought beings into existence who have no business here; who can do none of her work, and endure none of her favours; whose life is only suffering; and whose action is one long protest against the ill foresight which flung them into consciousness.

No taste of food, no feel of water, no sound of wind, no memory of tree or grass or flower, no image of moon or star are left to me. I am naked in the dark, Sam, and there is no veil between me and the wheel of fire. I begin to see it even with my waking eyes, and all else fades.

The salvation of the world is in man's suffering.

it ultimately doesn't matter which disease gnaws away at the body - it looks the same. The flesh surrenders, grows exhausted, and the eyes ask why.

I refuse to believe this was my fate. I was not meant to be this. I was never meant to be..." The pain in his eyes tore through her. "This can't be all I was born for.