The past was but the cemetery of our illusions: one simply stubbed one’s toes on the gravestones.
EMILE ZOLADon’t go looking at me like that because you’ll wear your eyes out.
More Emile Zola Quotes
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A ruined man fell from her hands like a ripe fruit, to lie rotting on the ground.
EMILE ZOLA -
Violence has never prospered, you can’t remake the world in a day. Anyone who promises to change everything for you all at once is either a fool or a rogue!
EMILE ZOLA -
In Paris, everything’s for sale: wise virgins, foolish virgins, truth and lies, tears and smiles.
EMILE ZOLA -
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 -
Man’s highest duty is to protect animals from cruelty.
EMILE ZOLA -
The camembert with its venison scent defeats the Marolles and Limbourg dull smells; It spreads its exhalation, smothering the other scents under its surprising breath abundance.
EMILE ZOLA -
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 -
How evil life must be if it were indeed necessary that such imploring cries, such cries of physical and moral wretchedness, should ever and ever ascend to heaven!
EMILE ZOLA -
I am little concerned with beauty or perfection. I don’t care for the great centuries. All I care about is life, struggle, intensity.
EMILE ZOLA -
Since the same human mire remains beneath, does not all civilization reduce itself to the superiority of smelling nice and living well?
EMILE ZOLA -
When a peasant begins to feel the need for instruction, he usually becomes fiercely calculating.
EMILE ZOLA -
I would rather die of passion than of boredom.
EMILE ZOLA -
Perfection is such a nuisance that I often regret having cured myself of using tobacco.
EMILE ZOLA -
An entire lifetime would not be long enough for you to exhaust the glance of the young harvest-girl.
EMILE ZOLA -
Respectable people, What bastards!
EMILE ZOLA