Quotes from Émile Zola

For a few moments, raising his arms desperately, the Reverend Mouret implored Heaven. His shoulder-blades cracked, with such fantastic force did he pray. But soon enough his arms fell to his sides, his hopes abashed. From heaven came one of those silences utterly void of hope known to the devout.

There Albine lay, panting, exhausted by love, her hands clutched closer and closer to her heart, breathing her last. She parted her lips, seeking the kiss which should obliterate her, and then the hyacinths and tuberoses exhaled their incense, wrapping her in a final sigh, so profound that it drowned the chorus of roses, and in this culminating gasp of blossom, Albine was dead.

Never subject to the rules, believing that the correct judgement and healthy nature keep her in the honesty she lived in.

As he talked a good deal, had seen active service, and was naturally regarded as a man of energy and spirit, he was much sought after and listened to by simpletons.

Les gouvernements suspectent la littérature parce qu'elle est une force qui leur échappe.

Here, on a human face, appeared all the ruin following upon hopeless labour. Laveuve's unkempt beard straggled over his features, suggesting an old horse that is no longer cropped; his toothless jaws were quite askew, his eyes were vitreous, and his nose seemed to plunge into his mouth. But above all else one noticed his resemblance to some beast of burden, deformed by hard toil, lamed, worn to death, and now only good for the knackers.

La certitude d'avoir empêche de désirer.

At the street corner, a one-storey house built of freestone, but repulsively decrepit and filthy, seemed to command the entrance, like a gaol. And here, indeed, lived La Méchain, like a vigilant proprietess, ever on the watch, exploiting in person her little population of starving tenants.

O Almighty God, O Divinity, Helpful Power, whoever, whatever Thou mayst be, take pity upon poor mankind and make human suffering cease! All

Since the same human mire remains beneath, does not all civilisation reduce itself to the superiority of smelling nice and living well?

Speculation, speculation!' she [Caroline Hamelin] mechanically repeated, struggling with her doubts. 'Ah! the idea of it fills my heart with disturbing anguish.

The road to Lourdes is littered with crutches,but not one wooden leg.

Ever since the morning, Pierre had beheld many frightful sufferings in that woeful white train. But none had so distressed his soul as did that wretched female skeleton, liquefying in the midst of its lace and its millions.

On her [Thérèse's] part she seemed to revel in daring and shamelessness. Not a single moment of hesitation or fear possessed her. She threw herself into adultery with a kind of furious honesty, flouting danger, and as it were, taking pride in doing so.

The vision that had emerged from the invisible was returning to the invisible. It was no more an appearance that was fading away, having created an illusion. All is but a dream. And, at the peak of happiness, Angélique had vanished, in the faint breath of a kiss.

Suçlad???m kiÅŸilere gelince: Hiçbirini tan?m?yorum. Onlar? hiç görmedim. Kendilerine kar?? ne h?nc?m var, ne kinim. Onlar benim için topluma kötülük eden kiÅŸilerden, kafalardan baÅŸka birÅŸey deÄŸildir. Benim burada yapt???m ÅŸey gerçeÄŸin ve adaletin ortaya ç?kmas?n? h?zland?rmak için devrimci bir araca baÅŸvurmaktan baÅŸka birÅŸey deÄŸildir.

She made one instinctive effort to resist and then yielded, slipping down on to the floor. Not a single word was exchanged. The act was silent and brutal

When they got back into the carriage they felt greater strangers than before.

Evet! Bu utanç verici gösteriyi izliyoruz, borçlar ve suçlar alt?nda ezilmiÅŸ kiÅŸiler suçsuz ilan ediliyor; buna kar??l?k onurun ta kendisi, yaÅŸam? lekesiz bir adam cezaland?r?l?yor. Bir toplum bu noktaya geldiÄŸi zaman, art?k çürümeye baÅŸlam?? demektir.

You'd never get Burle to behave decently. When a man sank as low as that, the only thing to do was to throw a spadeful of mud over him and get rid of him like the rotting carcass of some poisonous beast. And even if you shoved his nose in his own shit, he'd only start again the next day and end up stealing a few sous to buy sticks of barley sugar for lice-ridden little beggar-girls.

I'm a very ordinary man who's worked and fed like everyone else. I'm no longer afraid of dying, but death doesn't seem to want anything to do with me, now that I can see no point in living. I'm afraid he's forgotten me.

This sounded the death knell of small family businesses, soon to be followed by the disappearance of the individual entrepreneur, gobbled up one by one by the increasingly hungry ogre of capitalism, and drowned by the rising tide of large companies.

He was possessed now with that obsession for the cross in which so many lips have worn themselves away on crucifixes.

Her anger was rekindled. 'You see, I keep it to myself, but, oh! it's more than I can stand. Don't say anything, sir; don't say anything , or I'll explode!' He said nothing, and she exploded all the same.