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For the poor of this world, two major ways of expiring are available: either by the absolute indifference of your fellow-men in peace-time, or by the homicidal passion of these same when war breaks out.

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
World
Passion
Fellows
Poor
Majors
Expiring
Peace
Major
Homicidal
War
Available
Breaks
Two
Poverty
Indifference
Way
Ways
Fellow
Men
Either
Absolutes
Time
Break
Absolute

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An Immense hatred keeps me alive... i would live for a thousand years if i were certain of seeing the whole world croak.
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Life is filigree work. What is written clearly is not worth much, it's the transparency that counts.
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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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It is of men, and of them only, that one should always be frightened.
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The poetry of heroism appeals irresistibly to those who don't go to a war, and even more to those whom the war is making enormously wealthy. It's always so.
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One can't relive one's life. Forgiveness is not what's difficult one's always too ready to forgive. And it does no good, that's obvious.
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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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The sadness of the world has different ways of getting to people, but it seems to succeed almost every time.
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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.
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When you stop to examine the way in which our words are formed and uttered, our sentences are hard-put to it to survive the disaster of their slobbery origins.
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Living, just by itself - what a dirge that is! Life is a classroom and Boredom's the usher, there all the time to spy on you.
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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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Poor people never, or hardly ever, ask for an explanation of all they have to put up with. They hate one another, and content themselves with that.
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Experience is a dim lamp, which only lights the one who bears it.
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My trouble is insomnia. If I had always slept properly, I'd never have written a line.
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A man should be resigned to knowing himself a little better each day if he hasn't got the guts to put an end to his sniveling once and for all.
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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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There is no rest for the humble except in despising the great, whose only thought of the people is inspired by self-interest or sadism.
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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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Chin up, Ferdinand, I kept saying to myself, to keep up my courage. What with being chucked out of everywhere, you're sure to find whatever it is that scares all those bastards so. It must be at the end of the night, and that's why they're so dead set against going to the end of the night.
Louis-Ferdinand Celine