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" "Poets represent love as sculptors design beauty, as musicians create melody; that is to say, endowed with an exquisite nervous organization, they gather up with discerning ardor the purest elements of life, the most beautiful lines of matter, and the most harmonious voices of nature. There lived, it is said, at Athens a great number of beautiful girls; Praxiteles drew them all one after another; then from these diverse types of beauty, each one of which had its defects, he formed a single faultless beauty and created Venus. The man who first created a musical instrument, and who gave to harmony its rules and its laws, had for a long time listened to the murmuring of reeds and the singing of birds. Thus the poets, who understand life, after knowing much of love, more or less transitory, after feeling that sublime exaltation which real passion can for the moment inspire, eliminating from human nature all that degrades it, created the mysterious names which through the ages fly from lip to lip: Daphnis and Chloe, Hero and Leander, Pyramus and Thisbe.
To try to find in real life such love as this, eternal and absolute, is but to seek on public squares a woman such as Venus, or to expect nightingales to sing the symphonies of Beethoven.
Alfred Louis Charles de Musset-Pathay (11 December 1810 – 2 May 1857) was a French dramatist, poet, and novelist. Along with his poetry, he is known for writing the autobiographical novel La Confession d'un enfant du siècle (The Confession of a Child of the Century).
Biography information from Wikipedia
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LE PRINCE
Est-ce de l’époux ou de l’amant que vous avez peur ?
LAURETTE
C’est de la nuit.
LE PRINCE
Elle est perfide aussi, mais elle est discrète. Qu’oserez-vous lui confier ?... La réponse au billet ?
LAURETTE
Qu’en dirait-elle ?
LE PRINCE
Elle n’en laissera rien voir à l’époux.
Elle lui donne le billet ; il le déchire.
Ne la craignez pas, Laurette. Le secret d’une jeune fiancée est fait pour la nuit ; elle seule renferme les deux grands secrets du bonheur : le plaisir et l’oubli.
LAURETTE
Mais le chagrin ?
LE PRINCE
C’est une réflexion ; et il est si facile de la perdre !
LAURETTE
Est-ce aussi un secret ?
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