Sidonie Gabrielle Colette's Quotes

On this narrow planet, we have only the choice between two unknown worlds. One of them tempts us - ah! what a dream, to live in that! - the other stifles us at the first breath.

Sit down and put down everything that comes into your head and then you're a writer. But an author is one who can judge his own stuff's worth, without pity, and destroy most of it.

A pretty little collection of weaknesses and a terror of spiders are our indispensable stock-in-trade with the men.

If I can't have too many truffles, I'll do without truffles.

In the matter of furnishing, I find a certain absence of ugliness far worse than ugliness.

January, month of empty pockets! let us endure this evil month, anxious as a theatrical producer's forehead.

Jealousy is not at all low, but it catches us humbled and bowed down, at first sight.

Look for a long time at what pleases you, and a longer time at what pains you.

Smokers, male and female, inject and excuse idleness in their lives every time they light a cigarette.

The true traveler is he who goes on foot, and even then, he sits down a lot of the time.

To a poet, silence is an acceptable response, even a flattering one.

As for an authentic villain, the real thing, the absolute, the artist, one rarely meets him even once in a lifetime. The ordinary bad hat is always in part a decent fellow.

There is no need to waste pity on young girls who are having their moments of disillusionment, for in another moment they will recover their illusion.

Be happy. It's one way of being wise.

What a wonderful life I've had! I only wish I'd realized it sooner.

A woman who thinks she is intelligent demands the same rights as man. An intelligent woman gives up.

In its early stages, insomnia is almost an oasis in which those who have to think or suffer darkly take refuge.

The woman who thinks she is intelligent demands equal rights with men. A woman who is intelligent does not.

The lovesick, the betrayed, and the jealous all smell alike.

There are days when solitude is a heady wine that intoxicates you with freedom, others when it is a bitter tonic, and still others when it is a poison that makes you beat your head against the wall.

I love my past, I love my present. I am not ashamed of what I have had, and I am not sad because I no longer have it.

My true friends have always given me that supreme proof of devotion, a spontaneous aversion for the man I loved.

Our perfect companions never have fewer than four feet.