Josephine Bonaparte Quotes

A feeling of disquiet continues to haunt me. As a youth one dreams of love; by the time one wakes, it is too late.

I play out the cards. They say: This is Heaven, this is Hell. It is one.

He calls me Josephine. He says I'm an angel, a saint, his good lucky star. I know I'm no angel, but in truth I have begun to like this Josephine he sees. She is intelligent; she amuses; she is pleasing. She is grace and charm and heart. Unlike Rose; scared, haunted and needy. Unlike Rose with her sad life.

It's a wonder, given your prowess with these delicious women, that there aren't dozens of little Bonapartes running around. Tell me, how do you account for that?

The Queen has been guillotined, accused of crimes beyond imagining. Last night she appeared to me in a dream, handing me her head.

Could it be that the great Bonaparte is incapable of fathering a child? that it is not I who am at fault but you?

Daggers ever at the ready, I went about the day: children fed, linens mended, bedclothes aired. In little ways one conquers fear.

You are thinking of the past." I put my arms around her. She'd risen from childbed too soon. "We are the past," she said.

I lowered myself into an armchair. I was enveloped in a cloud of dust. All that remained of my life was in my lap. I sat for a time thus, as still as the mute objects that surrounded me. How little it all meant, in the end.

I kissed his cheek. "My King." I swooped into the courtly curtsy he'd taught me as a girl, regally kicking an imaginary train aside as I turned to go. He was laughing silently as I left. For a moment I saw that spark again. I did not say goodbye.

Now I have discovered where it is that she goes. It's the guillotine that draws her, across the river in the Place Louis Quinze- Place de la Revolution now-where daily crowds gather, the vendors selling lemonade, the children playing prisoner's base, the old ladies gossiping as the heads fall.

Gustavo Solivellas dice: "El verdadero carácter siempre aparece en las grandes circunstancias" (Napoleón Bonaparte)

I want to go with you," I told him. "To Egypt?" he whispered. "Wherever you go.

I nodded yes. Another deceit. I have become a person I do not care for.

Be happy; be it as much as you deserve it; it is my entire heart that speaks to you.

I care

AMBITION IS NEVER content, even at the summit of greatness,” Napoleon declared.

One leads, willing or not," Deputy Tallien answered. "It takes courage to face one's own death but even more so the death of others. We are learning this lesson well.

I confess that I enjoy this vocation, in spite of my sex. I feel a certain thrill, as if I were visiting a lover. But it is money I court, money that woos me, and the intoxicating power to earn a very great deal.

İmparatorun eşi Josephine’den en gizli yatak sırlarını öğrenir, Bonaparte’ın tırmanış basamaklarında attığı her adımı Barras’dan öğrenmiştir. Para babalarıyla ilişkileri sayesinde imparatorun bütün özel varlık durumunu bilir; Bonaparte ailesinin yüzlerce kirli işinden hiçbiri, erkek kardeşlerinin kumarcılıkları ve kız kardeşi Pauline’nin yatak serüvenlerinden hiçbiri onun gözünden kaçmaz. Efendisinin evlilik hayatında yaptığı kaçamaklar da ondan gizli kalmaz. Napoléon gecenin on birinde kılık değiştirip bir pelerine bürünerek Tuilerie’nin gizli bir yan kapısından usulca çıkar ve bir sevgilisine giderse arabanın nereye gittiğini, imparatorun o evde ne süre kaldığını, ne zaman geri döndüğünü Fouché ertesi gün öğrenmiş bulunur ve dünyaya hükmeden bu adamı, gözdeniz sizi uygunsuz bir oyuncu bozuntusuyla aldatıyor, diye utandırabilir kimi zaman, imparator kendini ister istemez ona iyice teslim etmek zorunda kalır. Fouché’nin tek gücü, Balzac’ı hayran bırakan yanı da bu: her şeyi ve her olayı bilmesi.

First and foremost, a Siren must distinguish herself from other women. She is by nature a rare thing, mythic, only one to a group; she is also a valuable prize to be wrested away from other men. Cleopatra made herself different through her sense of high drama; the Empress Josephine Bonaparte’s device was her extreme languorousness; Marilyn Monroe’s was her little-girl quality. Physicality offers the best opportunities here, since a Siren is preeminently a sight to behold. A highly feminine and sexual presence, even to the point of caricature, will quickly differentiate you, since most women lack the confidence to project such an image.

And he loved her—with the exalted and romantic intensity that a social climber gives to a woman whom he thinks superior to his own class.

I want to go with you," I told him. "To Egypt?" I whispered. "Wherever you go.

Josephine!" A stentorian bellow shook the candles in their sconces. Unconsciously, Amy grabbed Richard’s arm, looking about anxiously for the source of the roar. About the room, people went on chatting as before. "Steady there." Richard patted the delicate hand clutching the material of his coat. "It’s just the First Consul." Snatching her hand away as though his coat were made of live coals, Amy snapped, "You would know." "Josephine!" The dreadful noise repeated itself, cutting off any further remarks. Out of an adjoining room charged a blur of red velvet, closely followed by the scurrying form of a young man. Amy sidestepped just in time, swaying on her slippers to avoid toppling into Lord Richard. The red velvet came to an abrupt stop beside Mme Bonaparte’s chair. "Oh. Visitors." Once still, the red velvet resolved into a man of slightly less than medium height, clad in a long red velvet coat with breeches that must once have been white, but which now bore assorted stains that proclaimed as clearly as a menu what the wearer had eaten for supper. "I do wish you wouldn’t shout so, Bonaparte." Mme Bonaparte lifted one white hand and touched him gently on the cheek. Bonaparte grabbed her hand and planted a resounding kiss on the palm. "How else am I to make myself heard?" Affectionately tweaking one of her curls, he demanded, "Well? Who is it tonight?" "We have some visitors from England, sir,"his stepdaughter responded. "I should like to present…" Hortense began listing their names. Bonaparte stood, legs slightly apart, eyes hooded with apparent boredom, and one arm thrust into the opposite side of his jacket, as though in a sling. Bonaparte inclined his head, looked down at his wife, and demanded, "Are we done yet?" Thwap! Everyone within earshot jumped at the sound of Miss Gwen’s reticule connecting with Bonaparte’s arm. "Sir! Take that hand out of your jacket! It is rude and it ruins your posture. A man of your diminutive stature needs to stand up straight." Something suspiciously like a chuckle emerged from Lord Richard’s lips, but when Amy glanced sharply up at him, his expression was studiedly bland. A dangerous hush fell over the room. Flirtations in the far corners of the room were abandoned. Business deals were dropped. The non-English speakers among the assemblage tugged at the sleeves of those who had the language, and instant translations began to be whispered about the room – suitably embellished, of course. "It’s an assassination attempt!" a woman next to Amy cried dramatically, swooning back into the arms of an officer who looked as though he didn’t quite know what to do with her, but would really be happiest just dropping her. "No, it’s not, it’s just Miss Gwen," Amy tried to explain. Meanwhile, Miss Gwen was advancing on Bonaparte, backing him up so that he was nearly sitting on Josephine’s lap. "While we are speaking, sir, this habit you have of barging into other people’s countries without invitation – it is most rude. I will not have it! You should apologise to the Italians and the Dutch at the first opportunity!" "Mais zee Italians, zey invited me!" Bonaparte exclaimed indignantly. Miss Gwen cast Bonaparte the severe look of a governess listening to substandard excuses from a wayward child. "That may well be," she pronounced in a tone that implied she thought it highly unlikely. "But your behaviour upon entering their country was inexcusable! If you were to be invited to someone’s home for a weekend, sirrah, would you reorganise their domestic arrangements and seize the artwork from their walls? Would you countenance any guest who behaved so? I thought not." Amy wondered if Bonaparte could declare war on Miss Gwen alone without breaking his peace with England. "So much for the Peace of Amiens!" she started to whisper to Jane, but Jane was no longer beside her.

Unknowingly, Marie-Josèphe was covering herself with toxins, for the best rouge was made from vermilion, ground from cinnabar (mercury sulfide) or from ceruse, which was produced by dousing lead plates in vinegar.

There is one thing alone to do in this world and that is to keep acquiring money and more money, power and more power,” Napoleon said.15 He

I am not like other men, and the ordinary laws of morality and rules of propriety do not apply to me,” Napoleon vaunted.

Women should stick to knitting,” said Napoleon.12

I care only for the people who are useful to me—and only so long as they are useful,” he said on St. Helena.

When I am outside in the fresh air my ideas take a higher direction,” Napoleon said. “I cannot understand how some men can work successfully if they are always inside, beside the fireplace, without communication with the sky.”30

Everyday since I have met you I have loved you a thousand times more. (Napolean Bonaparte)