Sick, irritated, and the prey to a thousand discomforts, I go on with my labor like a true workingman, who, with sleeves rolled up, in the sweat of his brow, beats away at his anvil, not caring whether it rains or blows, hails or thunders.
-Gustave Flaubert
Select a background
More quotes by Gustave Flaubert
Popular Authors
A curated listing of popular authors.