One forges one's style on the terrible anvil of daily deadlines. - Émile Zola

The festivity had reached that apogee of joy when you face the happy fate of being crushed to death.

You don't understand this language, old fellow: otherwise you'd know that action contains its own reward. To act, to create, to fight against facts, to overcome them or be overcome by them—the whole of human health and happiness is made up of that!

She wanted to live, and live fully, and to give life, she who loved life! What was the good of existing, if you couldn't give yourself?