L'idée de la mort, jetée avec désespoir entre deux baisers, revenait implacable et aiguë. - Émile Zola

When there is no hope in the future, the present appears atrociously bitter.

This woman was as necessary to his life as eating and drinking.

Boredom was at the root of Lazare’s unhappiness, an oppressive, unremitting boredom, exuding from everything like the muddy water of a poisoned spring. He was bored with leisure, with work, with himself even more than with others. Meanwhile he blamed his own idleness for it, he ended by being ashamed of it.