Quote

A God who counts minutes and pennies, a desperate sensual God, who grunts like a pig. A pig with golden wings, who falls and falls, always belly side up, ready for caresses, that’s him, our master. Come, kiss me.

Louis-Ferdinand Celine

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Louis-Ferdinand Celine
Age: 67 †
Born: 1894
Born: May 27
Died: 1961
Died: July 1
Military Personnel
Novelist
Obstetrician
Physician Writer
Playwright
Writer
Olean
New York
Dr. Louis Ferdinand Auguste Destouches
Louis Ferdinand Destouches
Lui-Ferdinand Selin
L.-F. Selin
L.-F. Céline
Louis-Ferdinand Celine
L.-F. Celine
Louis Ferdinand Céline
Side
Desperate
Grunt
Ready
Kiss
Caress
Sides
Golden
Pennies
Fall
Kissing
Sensual
Come
Master
Pigs
Always
Wings
Belly
Like
Masters
Counts
Grunts
Minutes
Falls
Caresses

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In my room I'd barely closed my eyes when the blonde from the movie house came along and sang her whole song of sorrow just for me. I helped her put me to sleep, so to speak, and succeeded pretty well... I wasn't entirely alone... It's not possible to sleep alone.
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I piss on you all from a considerable height.
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All that makes a lunatic are the very ordinary ideas of mankind shut up inside a man's head.
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I'd seen too many troubling things to be easy in my mind. I knew too much and not enough. I'd better go out, I said to myself, I'd better go out again.
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Not much music left inside us for life to dance to. Our youth has gone to the ends of the earth to die in the silence of the truth. And where, I ask you, can a man escape to, when he hasn't enough madness left inside him? The truth is an endless death agony. The truth is death. You have to choose: death or lies. I've never been able to kill myself.
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If it is your duty to croak like the toad, then go ahead! And with all your might! Make them hear you!
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Troubles are as endless as pleasures are brief.
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Well, you know... experience is a muffled lantern that throws light only on the bearer...it's incommunicable.
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So many vaginas, stomachs, cocks, snouts, and flies you don't know what to do with them ... shovelsfull! ... but hearts? ... very rare! in the last five hundred million years too many cocks and gastric tubes to count ... but hearts? ... on your fingers!.
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We never change. Neither our socks nor our masters nor our opinions, or we're so slow about it that it's no use. We were born loyal and that's what killed us! Soldiers free of charge, heroes for everyone else, talking monkeys, tortured words, we are the minions of King Misery...It's not a life.
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Lots of men are like that, their artistic leanings never go beyond a weakness for shapely thighs.
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If you aren't rich you should always look useful.
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Our journey is entirely imaginary. That is its strength.
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Since life consists of madness spiked with lies, the farther you are from each other the more lies you can put into it and the happier you'll be. That's only natural and normal. Truth is inedible.
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There are certain advantages in being cursed by all and sundry ... especially, it dispenses you with having to be nice to anybody ... there's nothing more emollient, stultifying, emasculating than wanting to be liked ... not nice! ... that does it, you're free!.
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Love is like liquor, the drunker and more impotent you are, the stronger and smarter you think yourself and the surer you are of your rights.
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The mind is satisfied with phrased, but not the body, the body is more fastidious, it wants muscles. A body always tells the truth, that's why it's usually depressing and disgusting to look at.
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Experience is a dim lamp, which only lights the one who bears it.
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Philosophizing is simply one way of being afraid, a cowardly pretense that doesn't get you anywhere.
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To philosophize is only another way of being afraid and leads hardly anywhere but to cowardly make-believe.
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