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Perfection is such a nuisance that I often regret having cured myself of using tobacco.

Emile Zola

The conclusion does not belong to the artist.
EMILE ZOLA

Artist Conclusion
Art is a corner of creation seen through a temperament.
EMILE ZOLA

Art Corner Creation Temperature
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
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
The artist is nothing without the gift, but the gift is nothing without work.
EMILE ZOLA

Ability Artist Gift Hard Work Talent
The past was but the cemetery of our illusions: one simply stubbed one’s toes on the gravestones.
EMILE ZOLA

Grave Illusion Oneself Past
Nothing develops intelligence like travel.
EMILE ZOLA

Development Intelligence Travel
If something’s just, I’ll let myself be hacked to bits for it.
EMILE ZOLA

Allow Hack Myself Part Willing
If people can just love each other a little bit, they can be so happy.
EMILE ZOLA

Each Other Happiness Love People
When you have a sorrow that is too great it leaves no room for any other.
EMILE ZOLA

Greatness Leaving Sorrow
Governments are suspicious of literature because it is a force that eludes them.
EMILE ZOLA

Force Government Literature
Inability, human incapacity, is the only boundary to an art.
EMILE ZOLA

Art Boundary Human Incapacity Limitation
If you shut up truth, and bury it underground, it will but grow.
EMILE ZOLA

Growth Shut Truth Yourself
Through the centuries, the history of peoples is but a lesson in mutual tolerance.
EMILE ZOLA

History Lesson People Time Tolerance
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
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

Perfection is such a nuisance that I often regret having cured myself of using tobacco.

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Perfection is such a nuisance that I often regret having cured myself of using tobacco.

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