With other women he had not been able to touch their flesh without experiencing the desire to devour it, as though ravenous with an abominable hunger to butcher them. But this one, could he then love her, and not kill her?
Émile Zola"Well then! it was the end; his ruin was complete. Even if he mended the cables and lit the fires, where would he find men? Another fortnight's strike and he would be bankrupt. And in this certainty of disaster he no longer felt any hatred of the Montsou bandits; he felt that all had a hand in it, that it was a general agelong fault. They were brutes, no doubt, but brutes who could not read, and who were dying of hunger.
Émile ZolaIf you ask me what I came into this life to do, I will tell you: I came to live out loud.
Émile ZolaStichwörter: live-life
What everyone agreed was not very nice, was the way Clémence had carried on. Obviously, she wasn't the kind of girl you'd ask again: she'd ended up showing off everything she'd got, and she'd puked all down one of the muslin curtains and completely ruined it. At least the men did go into the street to do it; Lorilleux and Poisson, when they felt queer, managed to dash as far as the pork-butcher's shop. Breeding always tells.
Émile ZolaStichwörter: drinking vomiting french-people l-assommoir puking
Death had to take her little by little, bit by bit, dragging her along to the bitter end of the miserable existence she'd made for herself. They never even knew what she did die of. Some spoke of a chill. But the truth was that she died from poverty, from the filth and the weariness of her wretched life.
Émile ZolaStichwörter: death
If people can just love each other a little bit, they can be so happy.
Émile ZolaStichwörter: love
Every wave is a watersprite 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.
Émile ZolaInability, human incapacity, is the only boundary to an art.
Émile ZolaIf something's just, I'll let myself be hacked to bits for it.
Émile ZolaIt is not I who am strong, it is reason, it is truth.
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