Jules Michelet (French: [ʒyl miʃ.lɛ]; 21 August 1798 – 9 February 1874) was a French historian. He was born in Paris to a family with Huguenot traditions.
At its starting point in India, the birthplace of races and religions, the womb of the world.
Woman is a miracle of divine contradictions.
Our esteem is apt to be given where we know the least.
The real, in all this efforts, is that we climb just for climbing.
The way to gain a friend is to be one
The historian's first duties are sacrilege and the mocking of false gods. They are his indispensable instruments for establishing the truth.
What manly eloquence could produce such an effect as woman's silence?
Improvement depends far less upon length of tasks and hours of application than is supposed. Children can take in but a little each day; they are like vases with a narrow neck; you may pour little or pour much, but much will not enter at a time.
Each year, it is necessary to respire, to take breath again, to revive ourselves at the great living sources that forever keep their eternal freshness. Where can we find them if not at the cradle of our race, on the sacred summits from where descend the Indus and the Ganges. . . . ?
Woman is the Sunday of man: not his repose only, but his joy; the salt of his life.
He who knows how to be poor knows everything.
Coffee, the sober drink, the mighty nourishment of the brain, which unlike other spirits, heightens purity and lucidity; coffee, which clears the clouds of the imagination and their gloomy weight; which illuminates the reality of things suddenly with the flush of truth.
What is the first part of politics? Education. The second? Education. And the third? Education.
Woe be to him who tries to isolate one department of knowledge from the rest. All science is one: language, literature and history, physics, mathematics and philosophy; subjects which seem the most remote from one another are in reality connected, or rather they all form a single system.
Achieving a goal is nothing. The getting there is everything.
Fear accomplishes much in love. The husband of the Middle Ages was loved by his wife for his very severity. The bride of William the Conqueror, having been beaten by him, recognized him by this token for her lord and husband
Animal life, sombre mystery. All nature protests against the barbarity of man, who misapprehends, who humiliates, who tortures his inferior brethren.
Every epoch dreams its successor.
Women are perfectly well aware that the more they seem to obey the more they rule.