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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

I would rather die of passion than of boredom.
EMILE ZOLA

Boredom Death Myself Passion
Oh, the fools, like a lot of good little schoolboys, scared to death of anything they’ve been taught is wrong!
EMILE ZOLA

Fear Fools School Teaching Wrong
When you have a sorrow that is too great it leaves no room for any other.
EMILE ZOLA

Greatness Leaving Sorrow
I do not despair in the least of ultimate triumph. I repeat it with intense conviction.
EMILE ZOLA

Myself Repeat Triumph Ultimate
The artist is nothing without the gift, but the gift is nothing without work.
EMILE ZOLA

Ability Artist Gift Hard Work Talent
Lovers are made by a kiss.
EMILE ZOLA

Kiss Lover One Liner
She might have liked to try to strangle him with those slender fingers of hers, but she wanted to make a job of it and this great patience with which she waited for her claws to grow was in itself a form of enjoyment.
EMILE ZOLA

Death Enjoyment Fingers Job Strangle
There are two men inside the artist, the poet and the craftsman. One is born a poet. One becomes a craftsman.
EMILE ZOLA

Artist Man Nurtue Poet Talent
The vague torment of ambition.
EMILE ZOLA

Ambition One Liner
Nothing develops intelligence like travel.
EMILE ZOLA

Development Intelligence Travel
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
A new dynasty is never founded without a struggle. Blood makes good manure.
EMILE ZOLA

Blood Fertilizer Goodness Struggle
When lovers kiss on the cheeks, it is because they are searching, feeling for one another’s lips. Lovers are made by a kiss.
EMILE ZOLA

Cheek Kiss Lover Search
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
What will be the death of me are buillabaisses, food spiced with pimiento, shellfish, and a load of exquisite rubbish which I eat in disproportionate quantities.
EMILE ZOLA

Death Food Load Myself Quantity
Blow the candle out, I don’t need to see what my thoughts look like.
EMILE ZOLA

Blow Myself Need See Thinking

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.

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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.

Related Topics

Popular Authors

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