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Au-delà de cette limite votre ticket n'est plus valable

Book by Romain Gary · 35 quotes · Aging, Impotence, Love

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Au-delà de cette limite votre ticket n'est plus valable Quotes

“You see? Silbermann assures us that this technique has added years to the sexual life of his patients. But, of course, one must be a born fighter to profit by it. In this respect we are rather backward in France; a certain lack of persistence and determination causes us to lose out in the race of pleasure. It’s different in the United States. There are people band together, organize group therapy sessions, make pornographic films, found institutes and clinics, all dedicated to combating the Decline of erection. America is the largest true phallocracy. By comparison, we French are a sorry lot of quitters.”

“The dominant strain of the twentieth century, whether emanating from Marx or Freud, has been self-awareness; we have lost the art of forgetting ourselves. Which means we have little chance of being happy, since so much of happiness consists of inner peace; of playing ostrich, in fact. To say nothing of the fact that all this psychological self-consciousness is rather vulgar...”

“...ჩვენს საზოგადოებას წარსულის ოცნებების განხორციელებამ ქანცი გაუწყვიტა. როცა ამერიკელები მთვარეზე გაფრინდნენ, ერთი ყვირილი ატყდა, ახალი ეპოქა იწყებაო. მაგრამ ასე არ იყო: ეპოქა მთავრდებოდა. ჟიულ ვერნის ოცნების განსახორციელებლად გაისარჯნენ - მეცხრამეტე საუკუნის ოცნების... მეოცე საუკუნე ოცდამეერთესთვის არ მომზადებულა - მეცხრამეტის განხორციელებამ ძალა გამოაცალა...”

“არაფერი ისე არ ამხნევებს ადამიანს, როგორც საკუთარი თავისთვის იმის დამტკიცება, რომ ნებისყოფა აქვს, რთული გადაწყვეტილების მიღება და შესრულება შეუძლია”

“Not that I would describe fidelity as an exclusive contract, but rather a mutual devotion within shared assumptions. [...] She was greatly distressed, clearly more distressed than my condition warranted, and explained to me that when she was called and told of my accident she had been on the point of going to bed with a friend of mine. She left without a word to come to my side. That is what I mean by fidelity: putting love before pleasure.”

“The mythology of the superstud...' my friend, the poet Henti Drouille, had written on a slip of paper before putting a bullet in his head. His mistress cried out to me: 'I don’t understand - I don’t understand! He was such a marvelous lover!' True enough, so marvelous that she had noticed nothing. I saw in my mind the virile mask of Jim Daley and seemed to hear his voice saying: 'She was probably the clitoral type. Sometimes, a man gets a break this way.' No, one has to know when to stop.”

“Could it have come for me, too, the time to 'save my honor'? How many men leave an 'overly demanding' woman to duck the moment of truth when their inadequacy can no longer be disguised? [...] 'She doesn’t excite me anymore' neatly passes the buck by leaving the woman feeling she is to blame, that she has somehow lost her attraction, her sex appeal, whatever; it is a ploy typical of the aging cock-of-the-walk whose strutting and preening are meant to conceal his private failings.”

“What I dread is the moment when her understanding turns to compassion, and her tenderness, her concern, come dangerously close to pity and maternal solicitude as to change the very nature of our lovemaking. “No, no, my darling, we mustn’t, you will strain yourself....” p41 ... Of course I should have spoken to her frankly, from the first. But to name the Devil is to conjure him up. And the moods of lovers are contagious. There is that hazardous balance between them where the misery of the one brings on the insecurity and anxiety of the other; things quickly go from bad to worse , until they can no longer speak about it and the silence grows like a wall between them.”

“What I dread is the moment when her understanding turns to compassion, and her tenderness, her concern, come dangerously close to pity and maternal solicitude as to change the very nature of our lovemaking. 'No, no, my darling, we mustn’t, you will strain yourself...' Of course I should have spoken to her frankly, from the first. But to name the Devil is to conjure him up. And the moods of lover are contagious. There is that hazardous balance between them where the misery of the one brings on the insecurity and anxiety of the other; things quickly go from bad to worse, until they can no longer speak about it and the silence grows like a wall between them.”

“You are far too well informed a man to pretend that you don’t know what little game you are playing. If you have presentiments of death, it is because of certain wishes. You desire to escape sexual impotence - impotence, in short - and you wish for death to save you from all that. It is one of the virility’s favorite ploys.”

“Also, for the man, there is still one more loophole. If, by the grace of God, she’s humble by nature and and ready to assume guilt, she might just think: ‘I don’t turn him on,’ or ‘He doesn’t love me any longer.’ And there it is, then understanding between the sexes, my friend. You can always blame it on her.”

“My body had become that of an old liar, and my most spontaneous transports had begun to end in calculated maneuverings and delayed deliveries. It was no longer a question of self-esteem or pride; when I thought of breaking up with her, it was not to avoid some sort of discomfiture: it was a question of authenticity. I loved Laura too much to drag myself along on crutches in the wake of our love.”

“My hints had, undoubtedly and unintentionally, made her feel insecure, guilty, inadequate, afraid that she was losing whatever it was that turned me on; in short, it aroused all the self-doubt so readily awakened in women after thousands of years of servitude. Hence my zeal in denying the effects of time was abetted by Laura's complicity.”

“Not that I had any intention of accosting him to propose any practical agreement. That would have demanded on Laura's part a degree of devotion, of understanding, a detached view of the purely animal act of love, such as could not be expected of so young a woman who was so subject conventions of comportment in a society that had always shown itself incapable of differentiating between love and sexuality.”

“Racism is when it doesn't count. When they don't count. When one can do anything with them, it doesn't matter what , because they are not people like us. Do you see? Not our kind. When we can make use of them as we please, without losing face, dignity, honor. Without embarrassment, without making a moral judgement - that's it. When we can make them do no matter what degrading work, service, because their opinion of us doesn't count, because it cannot tarnish us. That's what racism is.”

“The majority of the foreign workers who lived here were Mohammedans, still deeply traditionalist in their attitude toward the female body, and who tended to regard her revealing outfit as either an impertinence or an invitation. [...] — We're insulting them. We're behaving like racists. Walking around here like a pair of voyeurs, like visitors to a zoo... [...] — I simply don't understand. — Can you see how they are looking at you? — No. Besides, it's you they are looking at, more than me. — That's it exactly. It's their way. — Their way of what? Would you explain to me, for the love of heaven, what's going on here? What's bothering you? I stopped short. — Don't you know what racism is? — But... — Racism is when it doesn't count. When they don't count. When one can do anything with them, it doesn't matter what , because they are not people like us. Do you see? Not our kind. When we can make use of them as we please, without losing face, dignity, honor. Without embarrassment, without making a moral judgement - that's it. When we can make them do no matter what degrading work, service, because their opinion of us doesn't count, because it cannot tarnish us. That's what racism is.”

“The transformation of a gilded playboy into a multinational titan did not surprise me. Age does not affect the taste for trophies, and flagging physical vigor is often compensated for by a fresh psychological drive. [...] In his fifties, a man’s virility often goes into action to build up a capital of power as a shelter against glandular decline.”

“Remember - when you came back from the states thirty years ago, and you had caught on to the importance of putting up a good front, and keeping it up at all costs. Yes, and you make a bundle of those wrapping papers of yours! And now you yourself are nothing but wrapping paper. With nothing inside.”

“My love, I caught sight of you a few moments ago, deep in conversation with a very sober-looking man, and I thought here is a bureaucrat sent by Reality to demand a full accounting, to investigate us on suspicion of fraud... on suspicion of being happy. Yes, there is something scandalous, something privileged and elitist about our love, because two people happily in love always turn their backs on the world; and so I am afraid. (From Laura’s note).”