"Good gracious!" she exclaimed, "she’s been more than an hour in there! When the priests set about cleansing her sins, the choir-boys have to form in… - Émile Zola

Oh, those bourgeois scum! One day they’d stuff 'em with champagne and truffles till their guts burst!

Things were definitely going badly. The night looked like ending in disaster. In one corner of the room Maria Blond had started squabbling with Léa de Horn, whom she accused of sleeping with men who weren't really rich.

Only the earth is immortal, the Great Mother from whom we spring and to whom we return, love of whom can drive us to crime and through whom life is perpetually preserved for her own inscrutable ends, in which even our wretched degraded nature has its part to play.