She might have liked to try to strangle him with those slender fingers of hers, but she wanted to make a job of it and this great patience with which she waited for her claws to grow was in itself a form of enjoyment.
EMILE ZOLAThese young people naturally grow up with ideas different from ours, for they are born for times when we shall no longer be here
More Emile Zola Quotes
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Civilization will not attain to its perfection until the last stone from the last church falls on the last priest.
EMILE ZOLA -
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 -
The road to Lourdes is littered with crutches, but not one wooden leg.
EMILE ZOLA -
What will be the death of me are buillabaisses, food spiced with pimiento, shellfish, and a load of exquisite rubbish which I eat in disproportionate quantities.
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 -
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 -
A new dynasty is never founded without a struggle. Blood makes good manure.
EMILE ZOLA -
Inability, human incapacity, is the only boundary to an art.
EMILE ZOLA -
It is not necessary that one should humble oneself to deserve assistance, it is sufficient that one should suffer.
EMILE ZOLA -
A ruined man fell from her hands like a ripe fruit, to lie rotting on the ground.
EMILE ZOLA -
The thought is a deed. Of all deeds she fertilizes the world most.
EMILE ZOLA -
Perfection is such a nuisance that I often regret having cured myself of using tobacco.
EMILE ZOLA -
She was cold by nature, self-love predominating over passion; rather than being virtuous, she preferred to have her pleasures all to herself.
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 -
Governments are suspicious of literature because it is a force that eludes them.
EMILE ZOLA