François Mauriac (October 11, 1885 to September 1, 1970) was a French novelist. In his time he was quite famous: on June 1, 1933 he was elected a member of the Académie française, and in 1952, he was awarded a Nobel Prize for literature. He might be more famous now but for the fact he was factious-- crossing swords with many of the literary avante garde. No one can argue he was not a cat lover though. Here are some warm words from his memoirs--Meḿoires inteŕieurs (1960):
One can enjoy stroking a cat all day long. At any age one may like the warm presence of an animal against one's chest or on one's knees ..... Animals do not know that we are old and have grown ugly...
One can enjoy stroking a cat all day long. At any age one may like the warm presence of an animal against one's chest or on one's knees ..... Animals do not know that we are old and have grown ugly...
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