Quotes from Louis-Ferdinand Celine

Garibanlar asla, ya da neredeyse hiç sormazlar, katland?klar? ÅŸeylerin nedenini niçinini. Birbirlerinden nefret etmekle yetinirler, o kadar

the old geezer was eighty, he'd been horseback riding only last year ... now he had a different sport, he went down on all fours and the kids rode him ... giddyap, horsie! they whipped him with his riding whip! ... till the blood came! ... he loved it! ... all around his study! faster! faster! ... los! ... into the next room ... witches! witches! he yelled at them, with his bare old ass! ...

T]he Dollar is always too light, a genuine Holy Ghost, more precious than blood.

Je pourrais moi dire toute ma haine. Je sais. Je le ferai plus tard s'ils ne reviennent pas. J'aime mieux raconter des histoires. J'en raconterai de telles qu'ils reviendront, exprès, pour me tuer, des quatre coins du monde. Alors ce sera fini et je serai bien content.

To put your trust in men is to get yourself killed a little

and it's the majority who decide what's crazy and what isn't

Medicine is a thankless profession. When you get paid by the rich, you feel like a flunky, by the poor like a thief. How can you take a fee from people who can't afford to eat or go to the movies? Especially when they're at their last gasp. It's not easy. You let it ride. You get soft-hearted. And your ship goes down.

You can lose your way groping among the shadows of the past. It's frightening how many people and things that are in a man's past have stopped moving. The living people we've lost in the crypts of time sleep so soundly side by side with the dead that the same darkness envelopes them all.

Hjalmar ... is holding him, he'd put the handcuff on him ... one, not two ... he only had one ...

Poate c? tocmai asta c?ut?m prin via??, nimic altceva decât asta, cea mai mare durere cu putin?? pentru a deveni noi înÅŸine înainte de-a muri.

Dragostea e infinitul aflat la îndemâna javrelor care se c???lesc, iar eu am demnitatea mea! Cel care vorbeÅŸte de viitor e un netrebnic, doar clipa de fa?? conteaz?. A-Å£i invoca posteritatea, înseamn? s? Å£ii un discurs viermilor.

Since we are nothing but packages of tepid, half-rotted viscera, we shall always have trouble with sentiment.

Fine! Fine! I'm listening...but it's not very interesting!...    Oh, that's what you think! that's what you think! but nothing is very interesting, dear Professor Y! jot this down! take some notes!    What notes?    Just write!...that if it weren't for wars, alcohol, blood pressure and cancer, the people in our atheistic Europe would soon be bored to death of life!

The mother sensed her daughter's animal superiority and instinctively condemned it out of hand, the unforgettable depth of her fucking, her way of coming like a continent!

Les gens riches à Paris demeurent ensemble, leurs quartiers, en bloc, forment une tranche de gâteau urbain dont la pointe vient toucher au Louvre, cependant que le rebord rebondi s'arrête aux arbres entre le Pont d'Auteuil et la Porte des Ternes. Voilà. C'est le bon morceau. Tout le reste n'est que peine et fumier.

Note accordingly that in all countries the penalties for petty theft are extremely severe, not only as a means of defending society, but also as a stern admonition to the unfortunate to know their place, stick to their caste, and behave themselves, joyfully resigned to go on dying of hunger and misery down through the centuries forever and ever . . .

No point in being proud; when it comes to miracles, take the ones that will stay with you.

Nothing can be explained. The world only knows how to do one thing, to roll over and kill you

Their last remaining pleasure! Their shriveled carcasses contained not one solitary atom that was not absolutely vicious!

The best thing to do when you're in this world, don't you agree, is to get out of it. Crazy or not, scared or not.

If anybody doesn't want to fight or murder, grab 'em, tear 'em to pieces! Kill them in thirteen juicy ways. For a starter, to teach them how to live, rip their guts out of their bodies, their eyes out of their sockets, and the years out of their filthy slobbering lives!

All in all, death is something like marriage.

Never be picky and choosy about means of escaping disembowelment, or waste your time trying to find reasons for the persecution you're a victim of. Escape is good enough for the wise.

You can lose your way groping among the shadows of the past. It's frightening how many people and things there are in a man's past that have stopped moving.