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 ZOLAThe vague torment of ambition.
More Emile Zola Quotes
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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.
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Classical education has deformed everything, and has imposed upon us as geniuses men of correct, facile talent, who follow the beaten track.
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Through the centuries, the history of peoples is but a lesson in mutual tolerance.
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A god of kindness would be charitable to all. Your god of wrath and punishment is but a monstrous phantasy.
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Sin ought to be something exquisite, my dear boy.
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If I cannot overwhelm with my quality, I will overwhelm with my quantity.
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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!
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Truth is on the march, and nothing will stop it.
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In Paris, everything’s for sale: wise virgins, foolish virgins, truth and lies, tears and smiles.
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Everything is only a dream.
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If something’s just, I’ll let myself be hacked to bits for it.
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If you ask me what I came into this life to do, I will tell you: I came to live out loud.
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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.
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Did not one spend the first half of one’s days in dreams of happiness and the second half in regrets and terrors?
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The vague torment of ambition.
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When truth is buried, it grows. It chokes. It gathers such an explosive force that on the day it bursts out, it blows up everything with it.
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One forges one’s style on the terrible anvil of daily deadlines.
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Blow the candle out, I don’t need to see what my thoughts look like.
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Governments are suspicious of literature because it is a force that eludes them.
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Don’t go looking at me like that because you’ll wear your eyes out.
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My fiery protest is simply the cry of my very soul.
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If you shut up truth, and bury it underground, it will but grow.
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Since the same human mire remains beneath, does not all civilization reduce itself to the superiority of smelling nice and living well?
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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.
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The conclusion does not belong to the artist.
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Art for me…is a negation of society, an affirmation of the individual, outside of all the rules and all the demands of society.
EMILE ZOLA