Crever pour crever, je préfère crever de passion que de crever d'ennui! - Émile Zola

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.

The ground was trembling under their feet, and they clung to the resolutions made in their calmer hours so as not to sink into the abyss.

Je n'ai guère de souci de beauté ni de perfection... Je n'ai souci que de vie, de lutte, de fièvre.