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Voltaire

Candide

Candide, ou l'Optimisme (1759) is a French satire by the Enlightenment philosopher Voltaire, English translations of which have been titled Candide: Or, All for the Best (1759); Candide: Or, The Optimist (1762); and Candide: Or, Optimism (1947). The novella begins with a young man, Candide, who is living a sheltered life in an Edenic paradise and being indoctrinated with Leibnizian optimism (or simply optimism) by his tutor, Pangloss. The work describes the abrupt cessation of this existence, followed by Candide's slow, painful disillusionment as he witnesses and experiences great hardships in the world. Voltaire concludes with Candide, if not outright rejecting optimism, advocating an enigmatic precept, «we must cultivate our garden», in lieu of the Leibnizian mantra of Pangloss, «all is for the best in the best of all possible worlds».
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Tobias Smollett

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    Samir Đokovićделится впечатлениемв прошлом году
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    Very enjoyable book. I suggest reading it!

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Цитаты

    b3822779294цитирует7 дней назад
    things cannot be otherwise than as they are; for as all things have been created for some end, they must necessarily be created for the best end.
    Random Opinionцитирует4 месяца назад
    he never told a story but everyone laughed at it

    He was so great and had the public eating out of his hands

    CaesarCesarцитирует7 месяцев назад
    I have not always been blear-eyed. My nose did not always touch my chin; nor was I always a servant. You must know that I am the daughter of Pope Urban X, and of the Princess of Palestrina. To the age of fourteen I was brought up in a castle, compared with which all the castles of the German barons would not have been fit for stabling, and one of my robes would have bought half the province of Westphalia. I grew up, and improved in beauty, wit, and every graceful accomplishment; and in the midst of pleasures, homage, and the highest expectations. I already began to inspire the men with love. My breast began to take its right form, and such a breast! white, firm, and formed like that of the Venus de' Medici; my eyebrows were as black as jet, and as for my eyes, they darted flames and eclipsed the luster of the stars, as I was told by the poets of our part of the world. My maids, when they dressed and undressed me, used to fall into an ecstasy in viewing me before and behind; and all the men longed to be in their places

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