| History, that excitable and unreliable old lady. |
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- Guy de Maupassant |
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| War! When I but think of this word, I feel bewildered, as though they were speaking to me of sorcery, of the Inquisition, of a distant, finished, abominable, monstrous, unnatural thing. When they speak to us of cannibals, we smile proudly, as we proclaim our superiority to these savages. Who are the real savages? Those who struggle in order to eat those whom they vanquish, or those who struggle merely to kill? |
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- Guy de Maupassant |
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| Patriotism is a kind of religion; it is the egg from which wars are hatched. |
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- Guy de Maupassant |
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| The essence of life is the smile of round female bottoms, under the shadow of cosmic boredom. |
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- Guy de Maupassant |
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