Anathemas and Admirations (63 page)

BOOK: Anathemas and Admirations
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When we have committed some vile action, we hesitate to take it on ourselves, to designate the party responsible; we waste ourselves in endless ruminations, which are only a further vileness, though attenuated by the acrobatics of shame and remorse.

The relief of discovering on the threshold of dawn that it is futile to get to the heart of anything at all

If He who is called God were not the symbol par excellence of solitude, I should never have paid Him the slightest attention. But ever intrigued by monsters, how could I neglect their adversary, more alone than any of them?

Every victory is more or less a lie; it touches us only on the surface, whereas a defeat, however trivial, affects us in the deepest part of ourselves, where it will make sure it is not forgotten. Thus, whatever happens, we can count on its company.

The amount of emptiness I have accumulated, while keeping my individual status — the miracle of not having exploded under the weight of so much nonexistence!

Without the perfume of the Incurable that it trails after it, boredom would be the most insupportable of all scourges.

Consciousness of my indignity was crushing me. No argument came to oppose, to weaken it. Though I invoked this or that exploit, nothing availed. “You are merely a supernumerary,” a self-assured voice kept repeating. Finally, beside myself, I answered with the right panache: “No need to treat me this way; is it really my responsibility to be the sworn enemy of the planet — indeed, of the macrocosm?”

To die is to prove one knows one’s own interest.

The moment that separates itself from all others, that liberates itself from them and betrays them — with what joy do we hail its infidelity!

If we knew the
hour
of our brain!

Unless everything is changed — which never happens — no one can resolve his contradictions. Death alone helps here, and it is here that it scores points and outclasses life.

To have invented the murderous smile. . . .

For thousands of years, we were merely mortal. At last we are promoted to the rank of the moribund.

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