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“Everything measurable passes, everything that can be counted has an end. Only three things are infinite: the sky in its stars, the sea in its drops of water, and the heart in its tears.”
― Gustave Flaubert, The Letters of Gustave Flaubert, 1830-1857

“Sentences must stir in a book like leaves in a forest, each distinct from each despite their resemblance.”
― Gustave Flaubert, The Letters of Gustave Flaubert, 1830-1857

“My soul has been haunted by something like those forgotten melodies that come back to us at twilight, during those slow hours in which memory, like a ghost among ruins, stalks our thoughts.”
― Gustave Flaubert, The Letters of Gustave Flaubert, 1830-1857

“Art, like the Jewish God, wallows in sacrifices. So tear yourself to pieces, mortify your flesh, roll in ashes, smear yourself with filth and spittle, wrench out your heart! You will be alone, your feet will bleed, an infernal disgust will be with you throughout your pilgrimage, what gives joy to others will give none to you, what to them are but pinpricks will cut you to the quick, and you will be lost in the hurricane with only beauty's faint glow visible on the horizon.”
― Gustave Flaubert, The Letters of Gustave Flaubert, 1830-1857