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26 February 1808 Marseilles, France
10 February 1879
Having the vain idea of competing with the train
The forbidden bathe
Philosophical contemplations of a lover of quiet pleasures. A small solitary arm of the Marne, not too much water, some waterlilies and a large number of frogs, he's like a plank for an hour, and this is what makes a man happy
A gust of wind not predicted by Mathieu (of the Drome)
But the snow offers even less charms.
In Paris, the fog has some small inconveniences
An icy day. The angel of the sidewalk
My goodness, I was about to go to bed. Fair Lady, we would be only too happy to assist at this event.
Musicians playing for about twelve hours at a fixed price, and not requesting a salary increase. The director of the opera considers making them an offer
A Sunday amateur. Ah, if I had all these old pictures, how I could sell all these beautiful frames
And you, what do you like best at the Salon this year? The beer.
There's no doubt about it, that's definitely me. However I am very disappointed that the artist insisted on portraying me without my glasses and collar
A new model theatre Nothing has been neglected here for the convenience of the spectators
Full again. I think they do it on purpose
Let's see, let's see, you've got the number 57 and I just called again for 3
In the bus. Twig by twig, the little bird has built his nest and the conductor receives his fare
If patience was banished from the rest of the world, you would find it again at a Paris bus station
Country neighbours. I am really wondering, why in weather like this, Moufflonet couldn't postpone the birthday of his niece to another day
Even more indigestible than a lobster dinner is a gentleman who has a passion to sing a romance after the meal. (Reflections of a guest who is forced to listen)
That imbecile Dubrancard, instead of spending 300 francs for this dance-evening where they are just serving tea, he should rather have invited us for a good meal. (opinion of those who do not dance)
They say that there are people who drink absinth in a country that produces such good wine as this.
Come on you rasca. Just you wait, you crook. Oh come on Alfred, after all, you've known each other for some twenty years.
And from her rosy lips, escapes a sweet name like the song of a bird
The incomparable sleepwalker. What am I touching in this moment? A small object of everyday use which I am not quite able to identify.
A pastime which never goes out of fashion
Ah! you are…. what do you want me to do about it?
A slightly strained relationship
Who dares to say that hunting does not arouse lively emotions
Oh blast, they have killed our partridge, the only one left in the vicinity
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