20 Pierre de Ronsard Quotes

Pierre de Ronsard quotes

1. Quand vous serez bien vieille, au soir, a la chandelle, Assise aupres du feu, devidant et filant, Direz, chantant mes vers, en vous emerveillant: 'Ronsard me celebrait du temps que j'etais belle.'

2. Cueillez des aujourd'hui les roses de la vie.

3. He who knows himself is his own master.

4. Happy is he who does not desire a thing.

5. Youth flies away and never comes back.

6. Daytime, short as it may be, is better than night.

7. Love and flowers do not last but one spring.

8. Sorrow is always a companion of pleasure.

9. He who does not love is miserable, and miserable is he who does.

10. Youth is our real treasure; all the rest of our years are winter.

1. When you are old, at evening candlelit, Beside the fire bending to your wool, Read out my verse and murmur, "Ronsard writ This praise for me when I was beautiful.

2. My guitar, I sing of thee 'Tis with thee that I decoy And ensnare enchantingly the ladies I enjoy.

3. Gather, gather your youth: Just like this flower, old age Your beauty will wither.

4. Thousands and thousands of colors paint the bosom of the earth so gaily.

5. Love wants everything without condition, love has no law.

6. Live now, believe me, wait not till tomorrow; Gather the roses of life today.

7. When you are very old, and sit in the candle - light at evening spinning by the fire, you will say, as you murmur my verses, a wonder in your eyes, 'Ronsard sang of me in the days when I was fair.

8. Gather the roses of life today.

9. “Haleine contre haleine, échauffe-moi la vie, Mille et mille baisers donne-moi je te prie, Amour veut tout sans nombre, amour n’a point de loi Translated: Breath against breath warms my life. A thousand kisses give me I pray thee. Love says it all without number, love knows no law.”

10. “When you are old, at evening candle-lit beside the fire bending to your wool, read out my verse and murmur, "Ronsard writ this praise for me when I was beautiful." And not a maid but, at the sound of it, though nodding at the stitch on broidered stool, will start awake, and bless love's benefit whose long fidelities bring Time to school. I shall be thin and ghost beneath the earth by myrtle shade in quiet after pain, but you, a crone, will crouch beside the hearth mourning my love and all your proud disdain. And since what comes to-morrow who can say? Live, pluck the roses of the world to-day.”