André Gide Quotes

A collection of quotes by André Gide.

André Gide (1869-1951) was a French author and Nobel laureate in literature. Born in Paris, Gide grew up in a Protestant household. Throughout his life, he embraced various intellectual and artistic pursuits, including writing, publishing, and travel. He is often remembered as one of the leading figures of French literature in the early 20th century.

Gide's literary career began at a young age when he published his first book of poems at only 19 years old. He rose to prominence with his novel "The Immoralist" in 1902, which tackled themes of sexual and moral liberation. His other notable works include "Strait Is the Gate," "The Counterfeiters," and "The Vatican Cellars." Gide's writings often explored complex moral dilemmas and challenged societal norms, earning him both praise and criticism.

Beyond his literary achievements, Gide was highly involved in political and social activism. He traveled extensively, investigating and documenting the conditions of various colonial territories. This led him to advocate for a more enlightened approach to colonization and condemn the injustices he witnessed.

Gide's literary contributions and his courageous exploration of controversial themes continue to be celebrated. His works have had a significant influence on subsequent generations of writers and thinkers, making him a key figure in French literature and intellectual history.

It was as easy as breathing to go and have tea near the place where Jane Austen had so wittily scribbled and so painfully died. One of the things that causes some critics to marvel at Miss Austen is the laconic way in which, as a daughter of the epoch that saw the Napoleonic Wars, she contrives like a Greek dramatist to keep it off the stage while she concentrates on the human factor. I think this comes close to affectation on the part of some of her admirers. Captain Frederick Wentworth in , for example, is partly of interest to the female sex because of the 'prize' loot he has extracted from his encounters with Bonaparte's navy. Still, as one born after Hiroshima I can testify that a small Hampshire township, however large the number of names of the fallen on its village-green war memorial, is more than a world away from any unpleasantness on the European mainland or the high or narrow seas that lie between. (I used to love the detail that Hampshire's 'New Forest' is so called because it was only planted for the hunt in the late eleventh century.) I remember watching with my father and brother through the fence of Stanstead House, the Sussex mansion of the Earl of Bessborough, one evening in the early 1960s, and seeing an immense golden meadow carpeted entirely by grazing rabbits. I'll never keep that quiet, or be that still, again.This was around the time of countrywide protest against the introduction of a horrible laboratory-confected disease, named 'myxomatosis,' into the warrens of old England to keep down the number of nibbling rodents. Richard Adams's lapine masterpiece is the remarkable work that it is, not merely because it evokes the world of hedgerows and chalk-downs and streams and spinneys better than anything since , but because it is only really possible to imagine gassing and massacre and organized cruelty on this ancient and green and gently rounded landscape if it is organized and carried out against herbivores.

Christopher Hitchens