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A ruined man fell from her hands like a ripe fruit, to lie rotting on the ground.

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

End Gratitude Life Love People Thinking World
Let us eat, drink and satisfy our coarse appetites, but let us keep our souls sacred and apart.
EMILE ZOLA

Drink Eat Ourselves Sacred Soul
The conclusion does not belong to the artist.
EMILE ZOLA

Artist Conclusion
Why then should money be blamed for all the dirt and crimes it causes? For is love less filthy – love which creates life?
EMILE ZOLA

Blame Creation Crime Life Love Money
My fiery protest is simply the cry of my very soul.
EMILE ZOLA

Cry Fire Myself Protest Soul
When a peasant begins to feel the need for instruction, he usually becomes fiercely calculating.
EMILE ZOLA

Beginning Calculation Fierce Peasant
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
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
I would rather die of passion than of boredom.
EMILE ZOLA

Boredom Death Myself Passion
Has science ever retreated? No! It is Catholicism which has always retreated before her, and will always be forced to retreat.
EMILE ZOLA

Religion Retreat Science
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

Affirmation Art Demand Negotiation Rule Society
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
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
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
In Paris, everything’s for sale: wise virgins, foolish virgins, truth and lies, tears and smiles.
EMILE ZOLA

Fools Lying Sale Tears Virgin

A ruined man fell from her hands like a ripe fruit, to lie rotting on the ground.

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A ruined man fell from her hands like a ripe fruit, to lie rotting on the ground.

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