Gustave Flaubert
Gustave Flaubert (; December 12, 1821 – May 8, 1880) was a French writer who is counted among the greatest novelists in Western literature. He is known especially for his first published novel, Madame Bovary (1857), for his Correspondence, and for his scrupulous devotion to his art and style.
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Some articles on Gustave Flaubert:
... The Pont Gustave-Flaubert (Gustave Flaubert Bridge) is a vertical-lift bridge over the River Seine at Rouen, Seine-Maritime, Haute-Normandie, France ...
... The Best Known Works of Émile Zola, by Emile Zola, 1941 The Best Known Works of Gustave Flaubert, by Gustave Flaubert, 1941 The Best Known Works of Ibsen, by Henrik Ibsen, 1941 The Best ... Anthony, by Gustave Flaubert, 1936 The Two Wives, a Tale in Four Parts, by Frank Arthur Swinnerton, 1940 The Unvanquished, by Howard Fast, 1942 The Vicar of Wakefield, by Oliver ...
... Brown, Frederick, Flaubert a Biography, Little, Brown 2006 ... ISBN 0-316-11878-8 Hennequin, Émile, Quelques écrivains français Flaubert, Zola, Hugo, Goncourt, Huysmans, etc ... available at the Gutenberg website as E-text N° 12289 Barnes, Julian, Flaubert's Parrot, London J ...
... Later she became the paramour of Gustave Flaubert, Alfred de Musset, and Abel Villemain ... Though married to Hippolyte Colet, Louise had a steamy eight-year affair, in two stages, with Gustave Flaubert ... Louise is said to be the inspiration for Gustave Flaubert's famous book, Madame Bovary, a story of an adulterous woman whose ideals and desires lead to her own ruin ...
Famous quotes containing the words gustave flaubert, flaubert and/or gustave:
“I love good sense above all, perhaps because I have none.”
—Gustave Flaubert (1821–1880)
“Everything depends on the value we give to things. We are the ones who make morality and virtue. The cannibal who eats his neighbor is as innocent as the child who sucks his barley-sugar.”
—Gustave Flaubert (1821–1880)
“After Stéphane Mallarmé, after Paul Verlaine, after Gustave Moreau, after Puvis de Chavannes, after our own verse, after all our subtle colour and nervous rhythm, after the faint mixed tints of Conder, what more is possible? After us the Savage God.”
—William Butler Yeats (1865–1939)