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Michel Houellebecq

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“Segundo o modelo amoroso prevalecente nesses anos de minha juventude (e nada me faz pensar que as coisas tenham mudado significativamente), os jovens, depois de um período curto de vagabundagem sexual que corresponde à pré-adolescência, deviam se envolver, supostamente, em relações amorosas exclusivas, acompanhadas de uma monogamia estrita, em que entravam em cena atividades não só sexuais mas também sociais (saídas, fins de semana, férias). Essas relações não tinham, porém, nada de definitivo, mas deviam ser consideradas aprendizados da relação amorosa, de certa forma estágios (cuja prática se generalizava, aliás, no plano profissional como algo prévio ao primeiro emprego). Relações amorosas de duração variável (a duração de um ano que, por minha vez, eu mantinha podia ser considerada aceitável), em número variável (uma média de dez a vinte parecia razoável), deviam supostamente se suceder antes de resultar, como uma apoteose, na relação última, que teria, agora sim, caráter conjugal e definitivo, e levaria, pela geração de filhos, à constituição de uma família.” Trecho de: Houellebecq, Michel. “Submissão.”

“El amor, el amor En un cine porno, unos jubilados cascados Contemplaban, escépticos, Los retozos mal filmados de dos lascivas parejas; No había argumento. He ahí, pensaba yo, el rostro del amor, El auténtico rostro. Algunos son seductores, y seducirán siempre, Y el resto sobrevive. No existe ni el destino ni la fidelidad, Sólo cuerpos que se atraen. Sin sentir ningún apego ni, desde luego, piedad, Uno juega, y después destroza. Algunos son seductores y por lo tanto muy amados; Sabrán lo que es un orgasmo. Pero hay tantos otros cansados y sin nada que ocultar, Ni siquiera un fantasma. Si acaso, una soledad agravada por la impúdica Alegría de las mujeres; Si acaso, una certeza: “eso no es para mí”, Un oscuro y pequeño drama. Con certeza morirán un poco desengañados, Sin ilusiones poéticas; Practicarán a conciencia el arte de despreciarse, Será algo mecánico. Me dirijo a todo aquel que nunca haya sido amado, Que nunca supo gustar; Me dirijo a los ausentes del sexo liberado, Y del placer corriente. No teman amigos, su pérdida es mínima: El amor no existe en ninguna parte. Sólo es una broma cruel de la que ustedes son víctimas, Una jugada de experto.”

“Refuser de faire quelque chose parce qu'on l'a déjà fait, parce qu'on a déjà vécu l'expérience, conduit rapidement à une destruction, pour soi-même comme pour les autres, de toute raison de vivre comme de tout futur possible, et vous plonge dans un ennui pesant qui finit par se transformer en une amertume atroce, accompagnée de haine et de rancoeur à l'égard de ceux qui appartiennent encore à la vie.”

“Poți munci ca un schimnic ani la rând, ba la drept vorbind acesta este singurul mod în care se cuvine să muncești; vine însă o clipă când simți nevoia să arăți lumii ce-ai muncit, nu atât pentru a-ți evalua judecata, cât pentru a căpăta siguranța în legătură cu existența acestei munci, ba chiar în legătură cu propria existență; înlăuntrul unei specii sociale, individualitatea nu mai reprezintă decât o ficțiune pasageră.”

“Lo que primero llamaba la atención era la ausencia total de muebles, lo cual era posible gracias a la utilización sistemática de pequeñas diferencias de nivel a la altura del suelo. De este modo, las zonas destinadas a dormitorios eran excavaciones rectangulares de cuarenta centímetros de profundidad: uno bajaba a la caba en vez de subirte a ella. Las bañeras eran igualmente grandes pilas redondas cuyo reborde estaba situado a ras de suelo.”

“Lorsque la sexualité disparaît, c'est le corps de l'autre qui apparaît, dans sa présence vaguement hostile; ce sont les bruits, les mouvements, les odeurs; et la présence même de ce corps qu'on ne peut plus toucher, ni sanctifier par le contact, devient peu à peu une gêne; tout cela malheureusement, est connu. La disparition de la tendresse suit toujours de près celle de l'érotisme. Il n'y a pas de relation épurée, d'union supérieure des âmes, ni quoi que ce soit qui puisse y ressembler, ou même l'évoquer sur un mode allusif. Quand l'amour physique disparaît, tout disparaît; un agacement morne, sans profondeur, vient remplir la succession des jours.”

“Le plaisir sexuel n'était pas seulement supérieur, en raffinement et en violence, à tous les autres plaisirs que pouvait comporter la vie; il n'était pas seulement l'unique plaisir qui ne s'accompagne d'aucun dommage pour l'organisme, mais qui contribue au contraire à le maintenir à son plus haut niveau de vitalité et de force; il était l'unique plaisir, l'unique objectif en vérité de l'existence humaine, et tous les autres - qu'ils soient associés aux nourritures riches, au tabac, aux alcools ou à la drogue - n'étaient que des compensations dérisoires et désespérées, des mini-suicides qui n'avaient pas le courage de dire leur nom, des tentatives pour détruire plus rapidement un corps qui n'avait plus accès au plaisir unique.”

“Immediately after the Christmas holidays I stopped speaking to her. The guy who had spotted me near the station seemed to have forgotten the incident, but I had been afraid even so. In any case, dating Bardot would have demanded a moral strength far superior to the one I could, even at the time, pride myself on. Because not only was she ugly but she was plain nasty. Goaded on by sexual liberation (it was right at the beginning of the 80s, AIDS still did not exist), she couldn't make appeal to some ethical notion of virginity, obviously. On top of that she was too intelligent and too lucid to account for her state as being a product of "JudeoChristian influence" - in any case her parents were agnostics. All means of evasion were thus closed to her. She could only assist, in silent hatred, at the liberation of others; witness the boys pressing themselves like crabs against others' bodies; sense the relationships being formed, the experiments being undertaken, the orgasms surging forth; live to the full a silent selfdestruction when faced with the flaunted pleasure of others. Thus was her adolescence to unfold, and thus it unfolded: jealousy and frustration fermented slowly to become a swelling of paroxystic hatred.”

“People often say that the English are very cold fish, very reserved, that they have a way of looking at things – even tragedy – with a sense of irony. There’s some truth in it; it’s pretty stupid of them, though. Humor won’t save you; it doesn’t really do anything at all. You can look at life ironically for years, maybe decades; there are people who seem to go through most of their lives seeing the funny side, but in the end, life always breaks your heart. Doesn’t matter how brave you are, how reserved, or how much you’ve developed a sense of humor, you still end up with your heart broken. That’s when you stop laughing. In the end there’s just the cold, the silence and the loneliness. In the end, there’s only death.”

“I've lived so little that I tend to imagine I'm not going to die; it seems improbable that human existence can be reduced to so little; one imagines, in spite of oneself, that sooner or later something is bound to happen. A big mistake. A life can just as well be both empty and short. The days slip by indifferently, leaving neither trace nor memory; and then all of a sudden they stop.”

“This progressive effacement of human relationships is not without certain problems for the novel. How, in point of fact, would one handle the narration of those unbridled passions, stretching over many years, and at times making their effect felt on several generations? We’re a long way from Wuthering Heights, to say the least. The novel form is not conceived for depicting indifference or nothingness; a flatter, more terse, and dreary discourse would need to be invented.”

“it’s true this world our breathing laboured inspires nothing more than obvious disgust a desire to flee without our share and no longer read the headlines we long to return to our ancestral home where our forebears once lived under an angel’s wing we long to find that strange morality which sanctified life to the end we crave something like loyalty like the embrace of mild addictions something that transcends yet contains life we cannot live far from eternity”

“I think she is going to find you too old... Yes that was it, the moment she said it I knew it was true, and the revelation caused me no surprise, it was like the echo of a dull, not unexpected shock. The age difference was the last taboo, the final limit, all the stronger for the fact that it remained the last and had replaced all the others. In the modern world you could be a swinger, bi, trans, zoo into S&M, but it was forbidden to be old.”

“The terrible predicament of a beautiful girl is that only an experienced womanizer, someone cynical and without scruple, feels up to the challenge. More often than not, she will lose her virginity to some filthy lowlife in what proves to be the first step in an irrevocable decline.”

“It is interesting to note that the "sexual revolution" was sometimes portrayed as a communal utopia, whereas in fact it was simply another stage in the historical rise of individualism. As the lovely word "household" suggests, the couple and the family would be the last bastion of primitive communism in liberal society. The sexual revolution was to destroy these intermediary communities, the last to separate the individual from the market. The destruction continues to this day.”