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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?

Emile Zola

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
I would rather die of passion than of boredom.
EMILE ZOLA

Boredom Death Myself Passion
An entire lifetime would not be long enough for you to exhaust the glance of the young harvest-girl.
EMILE ZOLA

Enough Life Time Woman Young
In Paris, everything’s for sale: wise virgins, foolish virgins, truth and lies, tears and smiles.
EMILE ZOLA

Fools Lying Sale Tears Virgin
Oh, the fools, like a lot of good little schoolboys, scared to death of anything they’ve been taught is wrong!
EMILE ZOLA

Fear Fools School Teaching Wrong
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

Cold Happiness Herself Nature Passion Virtuous
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
How evil life must be if it were indeed necessary that such imploring cries, such cries of physical and moral wretchedness, should ever and ever ascend to heaven!
EMILE ZOLA

Ascend Cry Evil Heaven Life Necessary Physical
It is not I who am strong, it is reason, it is truth.
EMILE ZOLA

Reason Strong Truth
The past was but the cemetery of our illusions: one simply stubbed one’s toes on the gravestones.
EMILE ZOLA

Grave Illusion Oneself Past
Art is a corner of creation seen through a temperament.
EMILE ZOLA

Art Corner Creation Temperature
Did science promise happiness? I do not believe it. It promised truth, and the question is to know if we will ever make happiness with truth.
EMILE ZOLA

Believe Happiness Myself Promise Science 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
Blow the candle out, I don’t need to see what my thoughts look like.
EMILE ZOLA

Blow Myself Need See Thinking
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
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

Myself Praise Reality Temperature True Word
Nothing develops intelligence like travel.
EMILE ZOLA

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

Fruit Hands Lying Man Ruin
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
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

Animal Appearance Connection Fate Fear Greatness Important Man
If you shut up truth, and bury it underground, it will but grow.
EMILE ZOLA

Growth Shut Truth Yourself
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
Inability, human incapacity, is the only boundary to an art.
EMILE ZOLA

Art Boundary Human Incapacity Limitation
One forges one’s style on the terrible anvil of daily deadlines.
EMILE ZOLA

Dead Fake Forge Line Style
The camembert with its venison scent defeats the Marolles and Limbourg dull smells; It spreads its exhalation, smothering the other scents under its surprising breath abundance.
EMILE ZOLA

Abundance Breathe Defeat Scent Surprise
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
I have but one passion: to enlighten those who have been kept in the dark, in the name of humanity which has suffered so much and is entitled to happiness. My fiery protest is simply the cry of my very soul.
EMILE ZOLA

Cry Darkness Enlightenment Humanity Myself Passion Soul Suffering

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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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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