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    While I was an honorable man in her eyes, she did not love me. But the minute she understood what I was, when she breathed the true and foul odor of my soul, love was born in her – for she does love me! Well, well! There is nothing real, then, except evil.


    — Octave Mirbeau

    #human-nature #philosophy #love



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    Did you know about Octave Mirbeau?

    Le Jardin des supplices (1899) (Torture Garden New York 1931; The Garden of Tortures London 1938). Dialogues tristes Eurédit 2005. Interpellations (2011).

    His work has been translated into thirty languages.

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