Yes! live life with every fibre of one’s being, surrender oneself to it, with no thoughts of rebellion, without deluding oneself that one can improve it and render it painless.
EMILE ZOLAWhen a peasant begins to feel the need for instruction, he usually becomes fiercely calculating.
More Emile Zola Quotes
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The conclusion does not belong to the artist.
EMILE ZOLA -
Has science ever retreated? No! It is Catholicism which has always retreated before her, and will always be forced to retreat.
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 -
In love as in speculation there is much filth; in love also, people think only of their own gratification; yet without love there would be no life, and the world would come to an end.
EMILE ZOLA -
Sin ought to be something exquisite, my dear boy.
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 -
There are two men inside the artist, the poet and the craftsman. One is born a poet. One becomes a craftsman.
EMILE ZOLA -
The fate of animals is of greater importance to me than the fear of appearing ridiculous; it is indissolubly connected with the fate of men.
EMILE ZOLA -
Perfection is such a nuisance that I often regret having cured myself of using tobacco.
EMILE ZOLA -
Classical education has deformed everything, and has imposed upon us as geniuses men of correct, facile talent, who follow the beaten track.
EMILE ZOLA -
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 -
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 -
If you shut up truth, and bury it underground, it will but grow.
EMILE ZOLA -
The vague torment of ambition.
EMILE ZOLA -
One forges one’s style on the terrible anvil of daily deadlines.
EMILE ZOLA