Avril Quotes

Why should I care what other people think of me? I am who I am. And who I wanna be.

You can't kick me down, I'm already on the ground. No, you can't, but you couldn't catch me anyhow.Blue skies, but the sun isn't comming out, no. Today, it is like I'm under a heavy cloud." Avril Lavigne (Runaway)

yeah - im a drama queen, but im the best damn thing that your eyes have ever seen.

She wants to go home, but nobody's home. That's why she lies, broken inside. With no place to go, no place to go, to dry her eyes, broken inside...

You're not alone Together we stand I'll be by your side, you know I'll take your hand When it gets cold And it feels like the end There's no place to go You know I won't give in

Her feelings she hides Her dreams she can't find She's losing her mind She's falling behind She can't find her place She's losing her faith She's falling from grace She's all over the place

Sudenly a gothic old man flu in on his broomstick. He had lung black hair and a looong black bread. He wus werring a blak robe dat sed 'avril lavigne' on da back. He shotted a spel and Vlodemort ran away. It was...DUMBLYDORE!

I'm the kind of person who always likes to be doing something.

My heart is broken... I'm lying here My thoughts are choking On you my dear...

Life is like a rolling coaster. Live it. Be happy. Enjoy life.

Why should i care? Cause you werent there when i was scared. I was so alone.

This innocence Is brilliant I hope that it will stay This moment Is perfect Please don't go away I need you now And I'll hold on to it Don't you let it pass you by

You're so beautiful But that's not why I love you And I'm not sure you know That the reason I love you, is you Being you, just you Yea the reason I love you Is all that we've been through And that's why I love you

Don't turn around. 'Cuz you will get punched in the face. Don't make this worse. You've already gone and got me mad. It's too bad, I'm not sad It's casting over. Just one of those things you'll have to get over it.

I couldn't tell you why she felt that way but she felt it everyday. I couldn't help her; I just watched her make the same mistakes again.

i dont want to be compared to britney,ashlee,hilary or lindsay. i want to be compared to me.

There's nothin' else I can do, but love you the best that I can.

I liked being a minor because you can't get into trouble. Now I just have to try and behave myself.

My dream was always to hop up on stage in front of my fans every night and perform.

And suddenly you're all i need the reason why I smile<3

It's who I am I don't have to try hard

Face tomorrow tomorrow's not yesterday

I hurt myself,” Syren bit out. “I make myself bleed and it feels good. It eases the pressure inside me, but it never lasts for long.” His lips trembled. “Before I slept in your bed, I’d never had a full night’s sleep. Before I crawled into your arms I’d never been safe.” He shuffled forward. “You give me that. You hold that power and you can take it away.

You're so beautiful but that's not why I love you, I'm not sure you know this but the reason I love you is you

I created Punk for this day and age. Do you see Britney walking around wearing ties and singing punk? Hell no. That's what I do. I'm like a Sid Vicious for a new generation.

Hear me when I say I believe nothings gonna change destiny. Whatevers meant to be will work out perfectly.

All I want is to mess around, and I don't really care about, if you love me, if you hate me, you can't save me, baby baby, all my life I've been good

It's hard to be stuck with people that you love, when nobody trusts

And you fall, and you crawl, and you break, what you get, and you turn it into honesty and promise you're never going to find you're faking, no no no.

To understand me you have to meet me

Life is like a roller coaster, live it, be happy, enjoy life

There's nothing I could say to you Nothing I could ever do to make you see What you mean to me All the pain, the tears I cried Still you never said goodbye and now I know How far you'd go I know I let you down But it's not like that now This time I'll never let you go I will be, all that you want And get myself together Cause you keep me from falling apart All my life, I'll be with you forever To get you through the day And make everything okay I thought that I had everything I didn't know what life could bring But now I see, honestly You're the one thing I got right The only one I let inside Now I can breathe, cause you're here with me And if I let you down I'll turn it all around Cause I would never let you go I will be, all that you want And get myself together Cause you keep me from falling apart All my life, I'll be with you forever To get you through the day And make everything okay Cause without you I cant sleep I'm not gonna ever, ever let you leave You're all I've got, you're all I want Yeah And without you I don't know what I'd do I can never, ever live a day without you Here with me, do you see, You're all I need And I will be, all that you want And get myself together Cause you keep me from falling apart All my life (my life), I'll be with you forever To get you through the day And make everything okay.

Try to tell me what I shouldn't do You should know by now, I won't listen to you Walk around with my hands up in the air Cause I don't care Cause I'm alright, I'm fine Just freak out, let it go I'm gonna live my life I can't ever run and hide I won't compromise Cause I'll never know I'm gonna close my eyes I can't watch the time go by I won't keep it inside Freak out, let it go Just freak out, let it go You don't always have to do everything right Stand up for yourself And put up a fight walk around with your hands up in the air Like you don't care Cause I'm alright, I'm fine Just freak out, let it go I'm gonna live my life I can't ever run and hide I won't compromise Cause I'll never know I'm gonna close my eyes I can't watch the time go by I won't keep it inside Freak out, let it go On my own Let it go Yeah, yeah, yeah Just let me live my life I can't ever run and hide I won't compromise Cause I'll never know I'm gonna close my eyes I can't watch the time go by I won't keep it inside Freak out, let it go Gonna freak out, let it go Gonna freak out, let it go

Syren used the belt to yank him closer. “Give me.” “No.” Tender fingers grazed his cheeks then settled in Syren’s hair, tugging gently until he looked up. “Take.

Why do things have to be so complicated?” “Ah, the eternally wise words of Avril Lavigne.

I can be tough, i can be strong, but with you, it's not like that at all. there's a girl that gives a s--- behind this wall, you just walk through it and i remember all those crazy things you said you left them running through my head, you're always there, you're everywhere, but right now i wish you were here, all those crazy things we did, didn't think about just went with it, you're always there, you're everywhere, but right now i wish you were here damn damn damn what i'd do to have you here, here, here i wish you were here damn damn damn, what i'd do to have you near, near, near i wish you were here i love the way you are, it's who I am, don't have to try hard, we always say, say it like it is, and the truth is that i really miss,

Love hurts whether its right ow wrong

You are everywhere. In my head, in my dreams. You are who I want. You make me feel and I—sometimes I like it, sometimes I don’t, but you make me feel and after twenty years, that alone is enough for me to want things. Unattainable things. With you. From you.

I don't believe war is a way to solve problems. I think it's wrong. I don't have respect for the people that made the decisions to go on with war. I don't have that much respect for Bush. He's about war, I'm not about war - a lot of people aren't about war.

I love you.” The words were a curse, harsh and punishing. “I can’t change it and I don’t want to. You’re it for me.” Angelo’s body shook between Gabe’s legs. “I gave you my heart in that fucking interrogation room, cop, yet you’ve been holding yours hostage from me.” He pulled his head back, eyes over-bright, lips red and swollen. “I want those words. I deserve those words.” His voice wobbled and broke. “I demand those words. I need them.

A grate wall of darkness moves towards him. He can see it coming. Wast and imperious. It is unconsciousness and it its sleep. It moves like a grate tidal wave. But before it brakes over him and he is away. Before he renders himself completely to that oblivious sleep. He thinks with a sudden terrible bottomless dread of Avril Lavigne's vagina.

I'm gonna live today like this is my last day.. :)

Why should I care what other people think or me? I am who I am and that's who I wanna be.

Here's to Never Growing up

Yeah, let's keep the peace going.

Keep holding on, cause you know we'll make it through. We'll make it through. Just stay strong, cause you know I'm here for you. I'm here for you. There's nothing you could say. Nothing you could do. There's no other way when it comes to the truth, but keep holding on, cause you know we'll make it through.

Whatever people say I am, I'm not.

I think it's awesome,

As of this moment, no one touches you but me. As of this moment, you fucking well better know that it’s you for me. And it’s me for you, Savage.” Oh

My favorite thing is when you smile,” he whispered. “My second favorite is knowing I made you smile.

A grate wall of darkness moves towards him. He can see it coming. Wast and imperious. It is unconsciousness and it its sleep. It moves like a grate tilde wave. But before it brakes over him and he is away. Before he renders himself completely to that oblivious sleep. He thinks with a sudden terrible bottomless dread of Avril Lavignes vagina.

A great wall of darkness moves towards him. He can see it coming. vast and imperious. It is unconsciousness and it its sleep. It moves like a great tidal wave. But before it brakes over him and he is away. Before he renders himself completely to that oblivious sleep. He thinks with a sudden terrible bottomless dread of Avril Lavigne's vagina.

He was a boy, she was a girl, can I make it any more obvious. He was a punk, she did ballet, what more can I say. He wanted her, she wouldn't tell, but secretly she wanted him as well

He was a boy, she was a girl Can I make it any more obvious, He was a punk, she did ballet, What more can I say, He wanted her, she wouldn't tell, but secretly she wanted him as well, All of her friends stuck up their nose, They had a problem with his baggy clothes He was a sk8er boi, she said "see you later boy" he wasn't good enough for her, he was a sk8er boi, she said "see you later boy", he wasn't good enough for her. Five years from now, she sits at home, feeding the baby, she's all alone, she turns on TV, guess who she sees, sk8er boi rockin' on MTV, she calls up her friends, they already know, and they got tickets to see his show

Me getting in your bed was the first step, T. My presence in your bed was my way of telling you I was all in, because I knew,” his voice, long gone hoarse, cracked, “I knew you were an all-in kinda guy, so I took the leap. Jumped for you. But you ran from me.

You deserve—” “You. That is what I deserve, diablo.” Stavros’ lashes lifted. “Then take what you deserve.

Beg me, Is.” Reggie circled the wrinkled entrance, teasing even though his limbs felt heavy and his vision was getting all kinds of blurry. “Ask for it and I might throw you some scraps like what you threw me when I had to listen to your eyes and your touch, because your lips could never speak the fucking truth.

One of the things that confirmed Hyacinth’s suspicion that America was an evil, lonely place was that people were islands unto themselves. And so when Avril drifted away, there was no friend or neighbor or pastor or coworker to reach out to and ask after her child.

We deserve each other.” “Got that shit right in one.” Daniel squinted at him. “Must you always swear?” The happiness in Stavros’ chest bubbled over, spilling from his lips in the form of low chuckle. “Fucking yes.

You were everything, everything that I wanted. We were meant to be, supposed to be, but we lost it. And all of the memories, so close to me, just fade away. All this time you were pretending. So much for my happy ending.

He was a boy, she was a girl Can I make it any more obvious He was a punk, and she did ballet, What more can I say He wanted her, she wouldn't tell, but secretly she wanted him as well, All of her friends stuck up their nose, They didn't like his baggy clothes He was a sk8er boi, she said see you later boy, he wasn't good enough for her

In a business like his, there was no room for heart, no room for weakness, no room for questions. Only the day-to-day struggle to keep his territory safe and his ass bulletproof.

Blood and violence gets me hard,” Dima murmured with a smile.

What the fuck?” Dima had two guns out, the one in his left hand pointed at X’s forehead, the other at the room. “Goddamn it, Mr. Storm. I almost shot you. That would have pissed me off.

Rough fingers palmed his throat. "Can you forget that, amante?" Soft kisses brushed his forehead, nose and eyes. "I can't. I dare you to try." Pagan moved away, taking his heat with him.

Damn it, Gabe." Pagan wrenched out of his hold and grabbed his shoulders. "Tell me what you want." "To kiss you." The words tumbled from his lips, harsher than he intended. "Just once. To know what it's like. What you taste like." Pagan's eyes darkened. "Maybe then I'll be able to forget you." Pagan arched an eyebrow and stepped forward. "You think it's that simple?" Gabe held his ground. "Yeah." "So do it." They stood chest to chest. Pagan's warm breath caressed Gabe's forehead when he said softly, "Kiss me, cop. Then try to forget me.

We connected through blood and violence,” Daniel said thoughtfully. “We’re bloody, violent men.” A slow smile broke across Daniel’s face. Goddamn. He would never not stun Stavros with that gesture. “We

He’d fallen in love with Quinn slowly, quietly. With Dima, it was like a baseball bat upside the head, these feelings. They completely swamped him, made him want different things, made him want to be different.

It was predatory, it was threatening, it was cold, and it made X freeze and stare in fascination.

Feelings aren’t something you run from,” Christophe answered softly. “You bring them with you wherever you go.

I don't wanna talk about it Cause I'm in love with you.

Temperee, riante, (comme le sont celles d'automne dans la tres gracieuse ville de Buenos Aires) resplendissait la matinee de ce 28 avril: dix heures venait de sonner aux horloges et, a cet instant, eveillee, gesticulant sous le soleil matinal, la Grande Capitale du Sud etait un epi d'hommes qui se disputaient a grands cris la possession du jour et de la terre.

I love him.” He loved him. “I’d die—” His voice cracked. “I’d die for him.” “Good.” Syren patted him on the cheek. “But how about you live for him? Because I’ll make sure he lives for you.

No one really knows what I'm really like, and you won't unless you spend a day with me, or if you're my friend. No one ever knows what anyone is really like. Read all the interviews you want on them, it's just the media talking and you can't really get to know someone that way, obviously.

There’s a reason I’ve kept my shit simple. Why I play, but never stay.” His gaze turned somber, serious, alarming Reggie. “Is—” “I never want to be attached to anything I can’t walk away from.” He brushed his lips over Reggie’s. “I’ve had a lifetime of loss, but in my business I’m prepared to lose more. Always more. Except you. I will never be prepared to lose you.

Même lorsqu'il la guettait sans être vu, en ces jours d'anxiété ou il attendait une réponse à sa première lettre, il la voyait transfigurée dans la réverbération du début de l'après-midi, sous la fine pluie des fleurs de amandiers, là ou quelle que fut l'époque de l'année c'était toujours avril.

CYRANO à LE BRET : Regarde-moi, mon cher, et dis quelle espérance Pourrait bien me laisser cette protubérance ! Oh ! je ne me fais pas d'illusion ! - Parbleu, Oui, quelquefois, je m'attendris, dans le soir bleu ; J'entre en quelque jardin où l'heure se parfume ; Avec mon pauvre grand diable de nez je hume L'avril, - je suis des yeux, sous un rayon d'argent, Au bras d'un cavalier, quelque femme, en songeant Que pour marcher, à petits pas, dans de la lune, Aussi moi j'aimerais au bras en avoir une, Je m'exalte, j'oublie... et j'aperçois soudain L'ombre de mon profil sur le mur du jardin !

Megan, I love you,. I will always love you." I swallowed hard. "Scared?" He asked. "Yeah. How about you?" "Even more than the first time," He said. "I know what it feels like to lose you." Then he bent his head and kissed me.

I’ll be here when you get back,” Kane promised. He wasn’t going anywhere. “Call me if you feel like talking. Text me if you don’t.” He smiled. “Either way, stay in touch. Please.

Life doesn't happen to us, but because of us.

Does that mean I can expect breakfast soon? Maybe some ackee and saltfish, or banana porridge?” Reggie snorted. “Means you can go fuck yourself.

Control is for people who don’t feel the shit we feel.

Let em know that we're still rock n roll!

We’re just here for the Greek.” Stavros cocked his head. “Wait, you’re here to kidnap me from my kidnapper?” Seriously?

I am yours. To fuck. To torture. To kill. I am yours.” For some reason, the truth of those words were the saddest thing Stavros ever experienced.

both of whom give Avril a howling case of the maternal fantods.

I want you, Savage. Your love, your fear and your secrets.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Your last chance. This is your last chance. I’m not okay with losing you anymore. I’m not okay with sharing you anymore. I’m not okay with not having you anymore. I am definitely not okay with you calling out for me while another man fucks you. Not anymore.” “Varun,

Did you fuck her?” Anger flashed in Reggie eyes. “Which answer do you want to hear the most?” He sidled close enough for Is to feel the coolness coming from the water still on his skin. “Yes means I’m done pining for you. No says I’m still waiting even though I know it’s never gonna happen.” He grabbed Is by the jaw, fingers tight, biting. “Which one cuts deepest, Is?

I think I’m your mirror image.” He held Daniel’s gaze. “Like knows like, yes?” Stavros licked his chapped lips. “The monster in you recognizes the monster in me,” he whispered. “And it wants to play.

One of his troubles with his Moms is the fact that Avril Incandenza believes she knows him inside and out as a human being, and an internally worthy one at that, when in fact inside Hal there’s pretty much nothing at all, he knows. His Moms Avril hears her own echoes inside him and thinks what she hears is him, and this makes Hal feel the one thing he feels to the limit, lately: he is lonely. It’s

Goddamn it, Is. You deserve it. You deserve everything.” “I don’t know about everything,” Is said hoarsely. His eyes were bright when he said, “But I think I’ve finally figured out that I deserve you.

You know what I like about you, Dane?” Patel went up to him again, got in real close again, to smell the faint hint of cologne wafting off Dutch. “I like that no matter how much of a monster you are to the men who work for you…” He lowered his voice and bent to Dutch’s ear. “You’re fucking putty in my hands.” Dutch’s

How long?” Jayce’s scalding breath singed the side of Wes’ neck as he spoke against his skin. “Does Scotto know about you and me? Does he know I’m the one who ruined you for him and all men?” Bastard was so full of himself. Wes remained quiet and ceased his struggles. He could breathe since Jayce’s hold wasn’t too tight. But his chest heaved and his groin throbbed like a mother. He hated how he responded to the slightest touch from Jayce.

I am not sure whether you could call this abuse, but when I was (long ago) abroad in the world of dry men, I saw parents, usually upscale and educated and talented and functional and white, patient and loving and supportive and concerned and involved in their children’s lives, profilgate with compliments and diplomatic with constructive criticism, loquacious in their pronouncements of unconditional love for and approval of their children, conforming to every last jot-tittle in any conceivably definition of a good parent, I saw parent after unimpeachable parent who raised kids who were (a) emotionally retarded or (b) lethally self-indulgent or (c) chronically depressed or (d) borderline psychotic or (e) consumed with narcissistic self-loathing or (f) neurotically driven/addicted or (g) variously psychosomatically Disabled or (h) some conjunctive permutation of (a) … (g). Why is this. Why do many parents who seem relentlessly bent on producing children who feel they are good persons deserving of love produce children who grow to feel they are hideous persons not deserving of love who just happen to have lucked into having parents so marvelous that the parents love them even though they are hideous? Is it a sign of abuse if a mother produces a child who believes not that he is innately beautiful and lovable and deserving of magnificent maternal treatment but somehow that he is a hideous unlovable child who has somehow lucked in to having a really magnificent mother? Probably not. But could such a mother then really be all that magnificent, if that’s the child’s view of himself? ...I think, Mrs. Starkly, that I am speaking of Mrs. Avril M.-T. Incandenza, although the woman is so multileveled and indictment-proof that it is difficult to feel comfortable with any sort of univocal accusation of anything. Something just was not right, is the only way to put it. Something creepy, even on the culturally stellar surface.

Hal Incandenza, though he has no idea yet of why his father really put his head in a specially-dickied microwave in the Year of the Trial-Size Dove Bar, is pretty sure that it wasn’t because of standard U.S. anhedonia. Hal himself hasn’t had a bona fide intensity-of-interior-life-type emotion since he was tiny; he finds terms like joie and value to be like so many variables in rarified equations, and he can manipulate them well enough to satisfy everyone but himself that he’s in there, inside his own hull, as a human being – but in fact he is far more robotic than John Wayne. One of his troubles with his Moms is the fact that Avril Incandenza believes she knows him inside and out as a human being, and an internally worthy one at that, when in fact inside Hal there’s pretty much nothing at all, he knows. His Moms Avril hears her own echoes inside him and thinks what she hears is him, and this makes Hal feel the one thing he feels to the limit, lately: he is lonely.

Union of Theoretical Grammarians in Cambridge. B.S. Meniscus Films, Ltd. Documentary cast; 35 mm.; color; silent w/ heavy use of computerized distortion in facial closeups. Documentary and closed-captioned interviews with participants in the public Steven Pinker-Avril M. Incandenza debate on the political implications of prescriptive grammar during the infamous Militant Grammarians of Massachusetts convention credited with helping incite the M.I.T. language riots of B.S. 1997 UNRELEASED DUE TO LITIGATION

Redeem? I need to be redeemed?” she asked behind him. “Why, because I’m a woman, and the tits and pussy disqualifies me from doing the fucked up things you men do?” He

Cher Monsieur Waters, Je reçois votre courrier électronique en date du 14 avril dernier et suis comme il se doit impressionné par la complexité shakespearienne de votre drame. Chaque personnage dans votre histoire a une harmatia en béton. La sienne : être trop malade. La vôtre : être trop bien portant. Fût-ce le contraire, vos étoiles n'auraient pas été aussi contrariées, mais c'est dans la natures des étoiles d'être contrariées. A ce propos, Shakespeare ne s'est jamais autant trompé qu'en mettant ces mots dans la bouche de Cassius : « La faute, cher Brutus, n'en est pas à nos étoiles ; elle en est à nous-mêmes. » Facile à dire lorsqu'on est un noble romain (ou Shakespeare!), mais nos étoiles ne sont jamais à court de tort. Puisque nous en sommes au chapitre des défaillances de ce cher vieux William, ce que vous me dites de la jeune Hazel me rappelle le sonnet 55, qui commence, bien entendu ainsi : « Ni le marbre, ni les mausolées dorés des princes ne dureront plus longtemps que ma rime puissante. Vous conserverez plus d'éclat dans ces mesures que sous la dalle non balayée que le temps barbouille de sa lie. (Hors sujet, mais : quel cochon, ce temps ! Il bousille tout le monde.) Un bien joli poème, mais trompeur : nul doute que la rime puissante de Shakespeare nous reste en mémoire, mais que nous rappelons-nous de l'homme qu'il célèbre ? Rien. Nous sommes certains qu'il était de sexe masculin, le reste n'est qu'une hypothèse. Shakespeare nous raconte des clopinettes sur l'homme qu'il a enseveli à l'intérieur de son sarcophage linguistique. (Remarquez que, lorsque nous parlons littérature, nous utilisons le présent. Quand nous parlons d'un mort, nous ne sommes pas aussi gentils.) On ne peut pas immortaliser ceux qui nous ont quittés en écrivant sur eux. La langue enterre, mais ne ressuscite pas. (Avertissement : je ne suis pas le premier à faire cette observation, cf le poème d'Archibald MacLeish « Ni le marbre, ni les mausolées dorés » qui renferme ce vers héroïque : « Vous mourrez et nul ne se souviendra de vous ») Je m'éloigne du sujet, mais votre le problème : les morts ne sont visibles que dans l’œil dénué de paupière de la mémoire. Dieu merci, les vivants conservent l'aptitude de surprendre et de décevoir. Votre Hazel est vivante, Waters, et vous ne pouvez imposer votre volonté contre la décision de quelqu'un d'autre, qui plus est lorsque celle-ci est mûrement réfléchie. Elle souhaite vous épargner de la peine et vous devriez l'accepter. Il se peut que la logique de la jeune Hazel ne vous convainque pas, mais j'ai parcouru cette vallée de larmes plus longtemps que vous, et de mon point de vue, Hazel n'est pas la moins saine d'esprit. Bien à vous Peter Van Houten

Zagor, dünyanın en suratsız, en çirkin, en huysuz, en çığırtkan kedisidir. Bacakları uzun ve ahşaptır; kulakları, tilki kulağına benzer, kamçı kuyruktur. Tüyleriyle, kıl fırçaları andırır. Üstünde eşine rastlanmayacak çirkinlikte bir desen vardır: ak üstüne boz lekeler ama en kötüsünden ve en yanlış yerlerde. Kendi kendine homurdanır, yemek verilmedi mi konuşur da durur, ayağınızı ısırır: ‘Dikkat: uzun kedi!’ Bizim eve zorla girdiğinde de ihtiyardı sanırım. Adını mahallenin çocukları takmış; kendisi de istedi mi, işine yaradı mı, tanıyor adını. Gelişleri, Kırlent’le aynı günlere rastlar. Kırlent; Marilyn Monroe, Süslü Şefika, Jane Avril karışımı bir dişidir. Bütün gün yalanma ve işve üstüne. Alacalı rengi, kısacık bacaklarında düşük jartiyeri andıran siyah lekeleriyle, süet burnu, ıslak diliyle gözalıcı güzellikte. Üstelik halk-tipi: bodur, geniş kalçalı, zekası kıt. Dünya yaratılırken artan kedi tüylerinden örülme bir kırlent, bir köşe yastığı; bütün kedilerden yapılma bir yumuşaklık. O kadar güzel ki, kimse çok sevemiyor, sevdiğini açıkça söyleyemiyor. Kırlent, sebze sevseydi, börülce severdi; yazar olsaydı, Colette olurdu. Oysa Zagor, ancak Kont Mazoch olabilir. Yemeklerden de yalnızca sığır kemiği çorbasını andırıyor. Köpüğü boyuna alınması gereken iri bir sığır kemiğini. Zagor’un hoşnut olduğu görülmüş şey değildir. Okşanmak istiyorsa, okşamak zorundasınızdır, o kadar. Ama korkunç zekasıyla vazgeçilmez bir beladır.

During the last two decades of the nineteenth century and the first of the twentieth, France enjoyed an upsurge of artistic flourishing that became known as La Belle Epoque. It was a time of change that heralded both art nouveau and post impressionism, when painters as diverse as Monet, Cezanne and Toulouse Lautrec worked. It was an age of extremes, when Proust and Anatole France were fashionable along with the notorious Monsieur Willy, Colette's husband. On the decorative arts, Mucha, Gallé and Lalique were enjoying success; and the theatre Lugné-Poe was introducing the grave works of Ibsen at the same time as Parisians were enjoying the spectacle of the can-can of Hortense Schneider. Paris was the crossroads of a new and many-faceted culture, a culture that was predominately feminine in form, for, above all, la belle Epoque was the age of women. Women dominated the cultural scene. On the one hand, there was Comtesse Greffulhe, the patron of Proust and Maeterlinck, who introduced greyhound racing into France; Winaretta Singer, Princesse de Polignac, for whom Stravinsky wrote Renard; Misia Sert, the discoverer of Chanel and Diaghilev's closest friend. On the other were the great dancers of the Moulin Rouge, immortalised by Toulouse lautrec — Jane Avril, Yvette Guilbert, la Goulue; as well as such celebrated dramatic actresses as the great Sarah Bernhardt. It would not be possible to speak of La belle Epoque without the great courtesans who, in many ways, perfectly symbolized the era, chief of which were Liane de Pougy, Émilienne d'Alençon, Cléo de Mérode and La Belle Otero.