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Updated: June 4, 2025
There is a mole on the left cheek of Suzette, high up near her eye, there are three black hairs in it I had never seen them until this morning c'est fini je ne puis plus! Of course we have all got moles with three black hairs in them and the awful moment is when suddenly they are seen That is the tragedy of life disillusion.
'J'aurai fini dans un petit moment, mon pere, said I, as I cut off another piece of cheese. By-the-bye, nobody should call a Trappist 'monsieur, because the monk has ceased to have even a name of his own other than his religious one, and has become a father or brother to everybody.
Rather, our prayer should be that the thought of God, the meaning of God, the glory of God, the plans and purpose of God may expand in our comprehension until we, who now see in a mirror, darkly, may see face to face. "Le Dieu défini est le Dieu fini." This mistaken endeavour, in the interest of stability, to make a vital movement static is not confined to religion.
Stop rowing! The wet oars stood still, lifted in the air like wings, and their splash died away with a tuneful drip; the boat drifted on a little, then stood still, rocking lightly on the water like a swan. Zoya affected to refuse at first.... 'Allons' said Anna Vassilyevna genially.... Zoya took off her hat and began to sing: 'O lac, l'annee a peine a fini sa carriere!
So, when you've idealised a person and can't idealise him any more: C'EST FINI. There's nothing but a ghost to come and make you uncomfortable sometimes and that CAN'T last.... Besides, I've been breathing the strong clear air of your gum trees lately. It's a case of pull devil pull bushman. Do you see?
Irene stopped, and with the book in her two hands, which she had dropped, gazed at the man approaching her. He hastened his step, took her hand, and said in a low voice and hurriedly: "I am the most wretched of beings! I was not worthy of such great happiness as as your mother's friendship, so I lose it. Je suis fini, completement et cruellement fini.
So The Butcher is stooping heavily upon Surplice and slicing and gashing busily and carelessly, his thick lips stuck a little pursewise, his buried pig's eyes glistening and in a moment he cries "Fini!" and poor Surplice rises unsteadily, horribly slashed, bleeding from at least three two-inch cuts and a dozen large scratches; totters over to his couch holding on to his face as if he were afraid it would fall off any moment; and lies down gently at full length, sighing with pleasurable surprise, cogitating the inestimable delights of cleanness....
"No, sir; by Boulogne" "C'est bon; quel age avez vous. What old, ma belle?" "Nineteen, sir, in June." "And are you alone, quite, eh?" "No, sir, my little girl." "Ah! your leetel girl c'est fort bien je m'appercois; and your name?" "Fanny Linwood, sir." "C'est fini, ma chere, Mademoiselle Fanni Linwood," said the old man, as he wrote down the name.
"Comment?" she screamed at him, although she had heard only too well. "Plus d'essence," he explained briefly, spitting into a puddle. "C'est fini." There it was concisely; she could take it or leave it. No more petrol, and still at least a mile away from the Villa Firenze. As well write "finis" to her whole desperate attempt.
I straightened my stiff back for a second and stood with my hands on my hips, and at that moment Captain Duchâtel came running down the stairway, with a face like stone and a pistol in his hand. He glanced at me. I saluted. He knew me through my stains. "Sauvez-vous, mon brave! C'est fini!" he said quietly through his teeth. A great thing to do! a most gracious and noble thing!
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