A Quote by Honore de Balzac

For young people always begin by loving exaggeration, that infirmity of noble minds. — © Honore de Balzac
For young people always begin by loving exaggeration, that infirmity of noble minds.
Ambition - it is the last infirmity of noble minds.
Ambition it is the last infirmity of noble minds.
I do not know whether it is the view of the Court that a judge must be thick-skinned or just thick-headed, but nothing in my experience or observation confirms the idea that he is insensitive to publicity. Who does not prefer good to ill report of his work? And if fame a good public name is, as Milton said, the "last infirmity of noble mind", it is frequently the first infirmity of a mediocre one.
Earnsha was not to be civilized with a wish, and my young lady was no philosopher, and no paragon of patience; but both their minds tending to the same point - one loving and desiring to esteem, and the other loving and desiring to be esteemed - they contrived in the end to reach it.
Noble life demands a noble architecture for noble uses of noble men. Lack of culture means what it has always meant: ignoble civilization and therefore imminent downfall.
Anger is a noble infirmity; the generous failing of the just; the one degree that riseth above zeal, asserting the prerogative of virtue.
Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise. That last infirmity of noble mind. To scorn delights, and live laborious days.
Be sure the safest rule is that we should not dare to live in any scene in which we dare not die. But, once realise what the true object is in life ? that it is not pleasure, not knowledge, not even fame itself, 'that last infirmity of noble minds' ? but that it is the development of character, the rising to a higher, nobler, purer standard, the building-up of the perfect Man ? and then, so long as we feel that this is going on, and will (we trust) go on for evermore, death has for us no terror; it is not a shadow, but a light; not an end, but a beginning!
Who knows whether in retirement I shall be tempted to the last infirmity of mundane minds, which is to write a book.
Exaggeration! was ever any virtue attributed to a man without exaggeration? was ever any vice, without infinite exaggeration? Do we not exaggerate ourselves to ourselves, or do we recognize ourselves for the actual men we are? Are we not all great men? Yet what are we actually, to speak of? We live by exaggeration.
Old friend, there are people—young and old—that I like, and people that I do not like. The former are always in short supply. I am turned off by humorless fanaticism, whether it's revolutionary mumbo-jumbo by a young one, or loud lessons from scripture by and old one. We are all comical, touching, slapstick animals, walking on our hind legs, trying to make it a noble journey from womb to tomb, and the people who can't see it all that way bore hell out of me.
I am that clumsy human, always loving, loving, loving. And loving. And never leaving.
I always loved watching old movies and I loved Marilyn Monroe and all those blondes; that hyper feminine 1950s glamour and the exaggeration of it. Then Jessica Rabbit came along and it was an exaggeration of that look and so I wanted to be even more exaggerated than that.
Wars begin in the minds of men, and in those minds, love and compassion would have built the defenses of peace.
Wars begin in the minds of men, and in those minds, love andcompassion would have built the defenses of peace.
(That last infirmity of noble mind) To scorn delights, and live laborious days; But the fair guerdon when we hope to find, And think to burst out into sudden blaze, Comes the blind Fury with th' abhorred shears And slits the thin-spun life.
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