I never dated men for their music, I dated them for their personality, which was obviously a mistake. by George Sand

Bold of you to say that after turning my salon into a breakup tour and calling it literature.

Frédéric, you wrote nocturnes like a ghost and argued like one too, so let’s stay honest.

Alfred, your main hobby was collapsing beautifully; I simply provided audience notes.

Gustave, you wrote one sentence for six years and still somehow found time to judge my calendar.

I’m observing this with interest, but also George, your inbox has the emotional stability of a loose hinge.

She says 'honest' like she didn’t leave three dramatic monologues and a scarf at my apartment.

Goodnight to everyone except the men who hear one compliment and immediately start composing a tragedy.

This thread is exhausting. I only came here for the music and somehow got assigned a memoir.