Book: Madame Bovary

I remembered her light summer evenings. Going, happened, past foals, and they neigh, and frisk, frolic!.. Under her window was a beehive, and bees, circling in the rays of the sun, the Golden balls were Bouncing against the window glass, and then immediately bounced. It was a happy time! Carefree! Full of hope! How many were then illusions! And now there is not one. Emma wasted them during their emotional storms, waste gradually: maiden name, married, in love, throughout his life, like a traveler leaving a bit of state in each hotel.

She hated everything, even to itself. She wanted to flush as a bird, to fly somewhere far away, in an uncontaminated space, and to renew body and soul.

However, she was waiting for something to happen. Like the sailors, victims of the crash, she's desperate gaze was cast his lonely life and all eyes will not flicker or white sail on the misty horizon. She was not aware of what it will be the case, what wind would bring it up to her what then she will beat up her boat, or three-Decker ship, and does it fit with the sorrows or the hatches will be loaded with pleasures. But, waking up in the morning, she was hoping that would happen today, listened to every sound, stood up and, to my amazement, convinced that everything the old way, and when the sun was going down, she was always sad and wanted to quickly come tomorrow.

... of all the tribulations we endure with love, the most discouraging, the most damning is the monetary request.

He loved her pure love - that love does not stop to deal with the case, cherish her, because she rarely found in life, but the love outweighs the grief that it causes in the end.

I detest commonplace heroes and restraint in expression of feelings - and in this life pretty.

... there are places on earth where happiness is well to be born, so different plants need special soil, and on any other they are taken with difficulty.

I honor God! Believe in a Supreme being, the Creator, in someone- anyway, as it may be called, who sent us here, that we have fulfilled your civic and family duty. But I don't want to go to Church to kiss silver plates and fatten a mob of jesters, which is better than we eat! Praying to God can be in the woods and in the field, even just following the example of the ancients, contemplating the vault of heaven. My God is the God of Socrates, Franklin, Voltaire, and of Beranger! I followed the creed of the Savoyard vicar, and the immortal principles of the eighty-ninth year! That is why I deny the God that walks with a cane in his garden, puts his friends in the belly of a whale dies, emitting a cry, and on the third day resurrected. All these absurdities fundamentally contradict the laws of physics, but these laws, among other things, it is clear that the priests themselves were steeped in shameful ignorance and want to load it in the abyss of people.

Leon seemed to her slimmer, prettier, more powerful, more mysterious than ever. Razlucivost with her, he left, he was here, the walls of the house seemed to be guarding his shadow. She could not take her eyes from the carpet where he stepped, from the chairs where he was sitting.

She cursed herself for not loved then Leona, now she longed for his kisses. She wanted to run after him, fall into his arms, to tell him: "It's me, I'm yours!" But it already scared away the obstacles and bitterness, primitives to the desires of only increased their.
Since then the memory of Leon was the centre of her longing. It was burning in her soul, brighter than the fire, divorced on snow travellers in the Russian steppe. Emma rushed to the fire, warming herself beside him, carefully stirring it lit the small enclave in the hearth, looked everywhere for something else to throw. The most distant memories and recent incidents that she experienced and what she had imagined, scattered voluptuous dreams, thoughts about happiness, lumassina in the wind like dead branches, her useless morality of her unfulfilled aspirations, domestic squabbles - all it picked up, it's all she caught, it was all good, to stir up her grief.

You happened to find the book your own idea, but first did not think you, any obscure way, now how would appeals to you from a distance and surprisingly subtle fully Express your feelings?

Well, what to turn on the passion? After all, it's the best there is on earth, is the source of heroism, enthusiasm, poetry, music, art, strongly just.

Meanwhile, does the man not need to know everything, to be always on top, should not cause in a woman the power of passion, to tell her all the complexity of life, to devote it in all secrets of life?

He came to the conclusion that the prohibition to see Emma give him the right to love her.