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If something’s just, I’ll let myself be hacked to bits for it.

Emile Zola

If you shut up truth and bury it under the ground, it will but grow, and gather to itself such explosive power that the day it bursts through it will blow up everything in its way.
EMILE ZOLA

Burst Ground Power Shut Truth Yourself
In Paris, everything’s for sale: wise virgins, foolish virgins, truth and lies, tears and smiles.
EMILE ZOLA

Fools Lying Sale Tears Virgin
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
Inability, human incapacity, is the only boundary to an art.
EMILE ZOLA

Art Boundary Human Incapacity Limitation
The road to Lourdes is littered with crutches, but not one wooden leg.
EMILE ZOLA

Journey Road Struggle
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
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

Death Food Load Myself Quantity
The thought is a deed. Of all deeds she fertilizes the world most.
EMILE ZOLA

Fertilizer Thinking World
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
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
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
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
When you have a sorrow that is too great it leaves no room for any other.
EMILE ZOLA

Greatness Leaving Sorrow
I do not despair in the least of ultimate triumph. I repeat it with intense conviction.
EMILE ZOLA

Myself Repeat Triumph Ultimate
The conclusion does not belong to the artist.
EMILE ZOLA

Artist Conclusion
One forges one’s style on the terrible anvil of daily deadlines.
EMILE ZOLA

Dead Fake Forge Line Style

If something’s just, I’ll let myself be hacked to bits for it.

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If something’s just, I’ll let myself be hacked to bits for it.

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