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François-René de Chateaubriand

Life is spent hovering round our tomb. Our various sicknesses are but the winds which carry us more or less near to the haven. … Death is our friend, nevertheless we do not recognise it as such, because it presents itself to us under a mask, and that mask inspires us with terror. 16 more words

Excerpt

“The original writer is not one who imitates nobody, but one whom nobody can imitate.”

“The original writer is not one who imitates nobody, but one whom nobody can imitate.”

— Francois-Rene de Chateaubriand, French, writer

Writer

AUTUMN LEAVES

“A moral character is attached to autumnal scenes; the leaves falling like our years, the flowers fading like our hours, the clouds fleeting like our illusions, the light diminishing like our intelligence, the sun growing colder like our affections, the rivers becoming frozen like our lives–all bear secret relations to our destinies.”
François-René de Chateaubriand

 

Pondering And Thoughts