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The road to Lourdes is littered with crutches, but not one wooden leg.

Emile Zola

The vague torment of ambition.
EMILE ZOLA

Ambition One Liner
They talked so, with secret hearts, without needing words, talking of other things. They could have suddenly continued their confessions aloud, without ceasing to understand each other.
EMILE ZOLA

Each Other Heart Need Secret Talk Understand Word. Confession
If you ask me what I came into this life to do, I will tell you: I came to live out loud.
EMILE ZOLA

Existence Life Live Myself Purpose
If something’s just, I’ll let myself be hacked to bits for it.
EMILE ZOLA

Allow Hack Myself Part Willing
Paris flared – Paris, which the divine sun had sown with light, and where in glory waved the great future harvest of Truth and of Justice.
EMILE ZOLA

Divine Future Greatness Justice Light Sun Truth
Did not one spend the first half of one’s days in dreams of happiness and the second half in regrets and terrors?
EMILE ZOLA

Dreams Fear Happiness Oneself Regret
When a peasant begins to feel the need for instruction, he usually becomes fiercely calculating.
EMILE ZOLA

Beginning Calculation Fierce Peasant
Through the centuries, the history of peoples is but a lesson in mutual tolerance.
EMILE ZOLA

History Lesson People Time Tolerance
The day is not far off when one ordinary carrot may be pregnant with revolution.
EMILE ZOLA

Ordinary Pregnant Revolution
In my view you cannot claim to have seen something until you have photographed it.
EMILE ZOLA

Photography View Yourself
The word realist means nothing to me, because I would subordinate reality to temperament. Give me what is true and I applaud; but give me what is individual and alive and I applaud even more.
EMILE ZOLA

Myself Praise Reality Temperature True Word
Blow the candle out, I don’t need to see what my thoughts look like.
EMILE ZOLA

Blow Myself Need See Thinking
The road to Lourdes is littered with crutches, but not one wooden leg.
EMILE ZOLA

Journey Road Struggle
Don’t go looking at me like that because you’ll wear your eyes out.
EMILE ZOLA

Eyes Myself Sight Stare Yourself
Since the same human mire remains beneath, does not all civilization reduce itself to the superiority of smelling nice and living well?
EMILE ZOLA

Beneath Civilization Human Live Smell
Classical education has deformed everything, and has imposed upon us as geniuses men of correct, facile talent, who follow the beaten track.
EMILE ZOLA

Class Correct Education Genius Talent Track

The road to Lourdes is littered with crutches, but not one wooden leg.

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The road to Lourdes is littered with crutches, but not one wooden leg.

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