Rémy De Gourmont


Rémy De Gourmont Quotes

  • ''The human mind is so complex and things are so tangled up with each other that, to explain a blade of straw, one would have to take to pieces an entire universe.... A definition is a sack of flour compressed into a thimble.''
    Rémy De Gourmont (1858-1915), French critic, novelist. repr. In Selected Writings, ed. and trans. by Glen S. Burne (1966). "Glory and the Idea of Immortality," sct. 1, Le Chemin de Velours (1902).
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  • ''If the secret of being a bore is to tell all, the secret of pleasing is to say just enough to be—not understood, but divined.''
    Rémy De Gourmont (1858-1915), French critic, novelist. repr. In Selected Writings, ed. and trans. by Glen S. Burne (1966). "On Style and Writing," sct. 6, La Culture des Idées (1900).
  • ''The whole effort of a sincere man is to erect his personal impressions into laws.''
    Rémy De Gourmont (1858-1915), French critic, novelist. Murry called this statement "the motto of a true criticism, conscious of its limitations and its strengths." Quoted in John Middleton Murry, "A Critical Credo," Countries of the Mind (1922).
  • ''Aesthetic emotion puts man in a state favorable to the reception of erotic emotion.... Art is the accomplice of love. Take love away and there is no longer art.''
    Rémy De Gourmont (1858-1915), French critic, novelist. repr. In Selected Writings, ed. and trans. by Glen S. Burne (1966). "Success and the Idea of Beauty," sect. 2, Le Chemin de Velours (1902).
  • ''Each man must grant himself the emotions that he needs and the morality that suits him.''
    Rémy De Gourmont (1858-1915), French critic, novelist. repr. In Selected Writings, ed. and trans. by Glen S. Burne (1966). "Success and the Idea of Beauty," sct. 3, Le Chemin de Velours (1902).
  • ''Man associates ideas not according to logic or verifiable exactitude, but according to his pleasure and interests. It is for this reason that most truths are nothing but prejudices.''
    Rémy De Gourmont (1858-1915), French critic, novelist. repr. In Selected Writings, ed. and trans. by Glen S. Burne (1966). "The Dissociation of Ideas," (1899).
  • ''Since art is the expression of beauty and beauty can be understood only in the form of the material elements of the true idea it contains, art has become almost uniquely feminine. Beauty is woman, and also art is woman.''
    Rémy De Gourmont (1858-1915), French critic, novelist. repr. In Selected Writings, ed. and trans. by Glen S. Burne (1966). "The Dissociation of Ideas," (1899).
  • ''Man, in spite of his tendency towards mendacity, has a great respect for what he calls the truth. Truth is his staff in his voyage through life; commonplaces are the bread in his bag and the wine in his jug.''
    Rémy De Gourmont (1858-1915), French critic, novelist. repr. In Selected Writings, ed. and trans. by Glen S. Burne (1966). "The Dissociation of Ideas," (1899).
  • ''Nothing exists except by virtue of a disequilibrium, an injustice. All existence is a theft paid for by other existences; no life flowers except on a cemetery.''
    Rémy De Gourmont (1858-1915), French critic, novelist. repr. In Selected Writings, ed. and trans. by Glen S. Burne (1966). "The Dissociation of Ideas," (1899).
  • ''To write well, to have style ... is to paint. The master faculty of style is therefore the visual memory. If a writer does not see what he describes—countrysides and figures, movements and gestures—how could he have a style, that is originality?''
    Rémy De Gourmont (1858-1915), French critic, novelist. "The Problem of Style," Selected Writings (1902, trans. 1966).

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Best Poem of Rémy De Gourmont

Hair

THERE is great mystery, Simone,
In the forest of your hair.

It smells of hay, and of the stone
Cattle have been lying on;
Of timber, and of new-baked bread
Brought to be one's breakfast fare;
And of the flowers that have grown
Along a wall abandonèd;
Of leather and of winnowed grain;
Of briers and ivy washed by rain;
You smell of rushes and of ferns
Reaped when day to evening turns;
You smell of withering grasses red
Whose seed is under hedges shed;
You smell of nettles and of broom;
Of milk, and fields in clover-bloom;
You smell of nuts, ...

Read the full of Hair

Hair

THERE is great mystery, Simone,
In the forest of your hair.

It smells of hay, and of the stone
Cattle have been lying on;
Of timber, and of new-baked bread
Brought to be one's breakfast fare;
And of the flowers that have grown
Along a wall abandonèd;

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