What do you think?
Rate this book
384 pages, Paperback
First published March 1, 1835
Our heart is a treasury; if you spend all its wealth at once you are ruined. We find it as difficult to forgive a person for displaying his feelings in all its nakedness as we do to forgive a man for being penniless.
The more cold-blooded your calculations, the further you will go. Strike ruthlessly; you will be feared. Men and women for you must be nothing more than post-horses; take a fresh relay, and leave the last to drop by the roadside; in this way you will reach the goal of your ambition.
„Subiectul lui Moș Goriot - un bătrîn cumsecade - pensiune burgheză - 600 de franci rentă - care s-a despuiat de toate pentru fiicele sale, care au, fiecare, 50.000 de franci rentă, moare ca un cîine”.
„În ciuda înfăţişării lui de om cumsecade, avea un fel de a te privi, adînc şi neînduplecat, care stîrnea atîta teamă, încît datornicii lui ar fi înfruntat mai degrabă primejdia morţii decît pe aceea de a nu-i înapoia banii împrumutaţi. Iar felul cum zvîrlea scuipatul dintr-o ţîşnitură, arăta că are o fire rece şi neclintită, care nu s-ar fi dat înapoi nici de la o crimă ca să iasă dintr-o încurcătură”.
“… the structure of the income and wealth hierarchies in nineteenth-century France was such that the standard of living the wealthiest French people could attain greatly exceeded that to which one could aspire on the basis of income from labor alone. Under such conditions, why work? And why behave morally at all? Since social inequality was in itself immoral and unjustified, why not be thoroughly immoral and appropriate capital by whatever means are available?”
He saw society as an ocean of mire into which one had only to dip a toe to be buried in it up to the neck.
'Fifty thousand young men in the same position as you are all trying to solve the problem of how to get rich quick. You are just one of all that number. Imagine the efforts that will demand and how bitter the struggle will be. You'll have to devour each other like crabs in a pot, since there aren't fifty thousand jobs going. Do you know the way to get on here? Through brilliant intelligence or skilful corruption. Either plough into the mass of mankind like a cannonball, or infiltrate them like a plague. It's no good being honest. Men yield to the power of intelligence, though they hate it and try to decry it, because it takes but does not share. But they yield if it is persistent. In a word they kneel before it in worship once they have failed to bury it in mud. Corruption thrives, talent is rare, so corruption is the weapon of mediocre majority, and you will feel it pricking you wherever you go. You will see women whose husbands earn sixty thousand francs all told spending more than ten thousand on clothes. You will see clerks on twelve hundred a year buying land. You will see women selling themselves so that they can ride in a carriage with the son of a peer of the realm and go bowling off to Longchamp down the middle of the road. You have seen that poor old ninny Père Goriot obliged to pay off the bill of exchange endorsed by his daughter, whose husband has an income of fifty thousand a year. I defy you to go two steps in Paris without running across some diabolical fiddle.'