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

Emile Zola

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.
EMILE ZOLA

Blow Choke Force Truth
Every wave is a water sprite who swims in the current, each current is a path which snakes towards my palace, and my palace is fluidly built at the bottom of the lake, in the triangle of earth, fire and water.
EMILE ZOLA

Earth Fire Nature Palace Sprite Water Wave
The conclusion does not belong to the artist.
EMILE ZOLA

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

Fruit Hands Lying Man Ruin
The vague torment of ambition.
EMILE ZOLA

Ambition One Liner
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
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
When you have a sorrow that is too great it leaves no room for any other.
EMILE ZOLA

Greatness Leaving Sorrow
When sometimes, behind his back, they called him a tyrant, he merely smiled and uttered this profound observation: If some day I turn liberal, they will say I have let them down.
EMILE ZOLA

Liberal Myself Observation Smile Time
Classical education has deformed everything, and has imposed upon us as geniuses men of correct, facile talent, who follow the beaten track.
EMILE ZOLA

Class Correct Education Genius Talent Track
In Paris, everything’s for sale: wise virgins, foolish virgins, truth and lies, tears and smiles.
EMILE ZOLA

Fools Lying Sale Tears Virgin
I am an artist. I am here to live out loud.
EMILE ZOLA

Artist Live Loud Myself
It all seemed a hollow sham now – that strict code, that conscientious virtue that condemned her to the sterile joys of pious women! No, no, she’d had enough of that; she wanted to live!
EMILE ZOLA

Enough Happiness Hollow Joy Live Strict Virtue Woman
Over all crowds there seems to float a vague distress, an atmosphere of pervasive melancholy, as if any large gathering of people creates an aura of terror and pity.
EMILE ZOLA

Creation Distress People Sadness
Civilization will not attain to its perfection until the last stone from the last church falls on the last priest.
EMILE ZOLA

Civilization Fall Myself Perfection Priest Stone
They dared not peer down into their own natures, down into the feverish confusion that filled their minds with a kind of dense, acrid mist.
EMILE ZOLA

Confusion Dare Kind Mindset Nature

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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