Quotes from Michel Houellebecq

La pure morale est unique et universelle. Elle ne subit aucune altération au cours du temps, non plus qu'aucune adjonction. Elle ne dépend d'aucun facteur historique, économique, sociologique ou culturel ; elle ne dépend absolument de rien du tout. Non déterminée, elle détermine. Non conditionnée, elle conditionne. En d'autres termes, c'est un absolu.

Men in general don't know how to live: they have no true familiarity with life, and never feel entirely at ease in it, so they pursue different projects, more or less ambitious and more or less grandiose – generally speaking, of course, they fail and reach the conclusion that they would have been better off just living, but as a rule by that point it's too late.

To refuse to do something because you've already done it, because you've already been there, rapidly leads to the destruction, for yourself as much as for others, of any reason for living, for any possible future, and it plunges you into an oppressive ennui that will eventually transform into atrocious bitterness, accompanied by hatred and rancor toward those who still belong to the land of the living.

Az irodalom mélységesen fogalmi m?vészet (...) Semmit sem lehet állítani, tagadni, relativizálni, kigúnyolni a fogalmak segítsége nélkül, szavak nélkül. Innen fakad az irodalmi tevékenység meglepÅ' robosztussága: az irodalom megtagadhatja magát, elpusztíthatja magát, lehetetlennek nyilváníthatja magát, miközben mégis önmaga marad.

Undoubtedly, the best way for a consumer to have a good time in the 2010s was to turn to Korean products: for a car, Kia and Hyundai; for electronics, LG and Samsung.

une conversation entre hommes, cette chose curieuse qui semble toujours hésiter entre la pédérastie et le duel

The arrival in Paris, as grim as ever. The leprous façades of the Pont Cardinet flats, behind which one invariably imagines retired folk agonizing alongside their cat Poucette which is eating up half their pension with its Friskies. Those weird metal structures that indecently mount each other to form a grid of overhead wires. And the inevitable advertising hoardings flashing by, gaudy and repellent. 'A gay and changing spectacle on the walls.' Bullshit. Pure fucking bullshit.

In the presence of a reader of Teilhard De Chardin I feel disarmed, nonplussed, ready to break down in tears.

J'aurais pu adhérer au Front National, mais à quoi bon manger de la choucroute avec des cons?

The night is far spent, the day is at hand: let us therefore cast off the works of darkness, and let us put on the armour of light.

Jesus had loved men too much, that was the problem; to let himself be crucified for their sake showed, at the very least, a lack of taste, as the old faggot would have put it.

Il est bien difficile de comprendre les autres, de savoir ce qui se cache au fond de leurs cÅ"urs, et sans l'assistance de l'alcool on n'y parviendrait peut-être même pas du tout

Hidden all day in impenetrable black burkas, rich Saudi women transformed themselves by night into birds of paradise with their corsets, their see-through bras, their G-strings with multicolored lace and rhinestones. They were exactly the opposite of Western women, who spent their days dressed up and looking sexy to maintain their social status, then collapsed in exhaustion once they got home, abandoning all hope of seduction in favor of clothes that were loose and shapeless.

The human race will disappear. Other races in turn will appear and disappear. The skies will be glacial and empty, traversed by the feeble light of half-dead stars. These too will disappear. Everything will disappear. And human actions are as free and as stripped of meaning as the unfettered movements of the elementary particles. Good, evil, morality, sentiments? Pure 'Victorian fictions.' All that exists is egotism. Cold, intact, and radiant.

Western nations took a strange pride in this system, though it amounted to little more than a power-sharing deal between two rival gangs, and they would even go to war to impose it on nations that failed to share their enthusiasm.

Bloy was the ultimate weapon against the twentieth century, its mediocrity, its moronic 'engagement,' its cloying humanitarianism; against Sartre, and Camus, and all their political playacting; and against all those sickening formalists, the nouveau roman, the pointless absurdity of it all.

the word humanism made me want to vomit

The mere will to live was clearly no match for the pains and aggravations that punctuate the life of the average Western man.

L'absence d'envie de vivre, hélas, ne suffit pas pour avoir envie de mourir.

When men have no vices, she thought, it's very difficult to guess what might make them happy.

The society in which I live disgusts me; advertising sickens me; computers make me puke. My entire work as a computer expert consists of adding to the data, the cross-referencing, the criteria of rational decision-making. It has no meaning.

We feel nostalgia for a place simply because we've lived there; whether we lived well or badly scarcely matters. The past is always beautiful. So, for that matter, is the future. Only the present hurts, and we carry it around like an abscess of suffering, our companion between two infinities of happiness and peace.

Le combat narcissique durerait aussi longtemps que la sociabilité elle-même, il en serait l'ultime vestige, mais il finirait par s'éteindre. Quant à l'amour, il ne fallait plus y compter.

A source of permanent, accessible pleasure, our genitals exist. The god who created our misfortune, who made us short-lived, vain and cruel, has also provided this form of meagre compensation. If we couldn't have sex from time to time, what would life be? A futile struggle against joints that stiffen, caries that form. All of which, moreover, is as uninteresting as humanly possible - the collagen which makes muscles stiffen, the appearance of microbic cavities in the gums.