Whenever he had spoilt a piece of work he always set himself below the meanest labourer who had at least brawn enough to do his job.
Élodie, who was rising fifteen, lifted her anaemic, puffy, virginal face with its wispy hair; she was so thin-blooded that good country air seemed only to make her more sickly.
A boundless contempt for everything outside their art, for society, and above all, for politics.
I have but one passion—that of light. This I ask for in the name of humanity, which has suffered so much, and which has a claim to happiness. My passionate protest is but the cry of my soul. Let anyone who dares bring me before an Assize Court, and let the inquiry be held in broad daylight. I am waiting.
Civilization will not attain to its perfection until the last stone from the last church falls on the last priest.