Quotessence
Home / Quotes / Quote by Patrick Süskind

Quote by Patrick Süskind

“For here, inside the crypt, was where he truly lived. Which is to say, for well over twenty hours a day in total darkness and in total silence and in total immobility, he sat on his horse blanket at the end of the stony corridor, his back resting on the rock slide, his shoulders wedged between the rocks and enjoyed himself.”

Quote by Patrick Süskind

Work

Perfume: The Story of a Murderer

Perfume: The Story of a Murderer is a novel by Patrick Suskind, first published in 1985. The story follows the protagonist, Jean-Baptiste Grenouille, a man born with an extraordinary sense of smell. Grenouille's obsession with creating the perfect scent leads him on a path of murder and madness. Set in the tumultuous era of the French Revolution, the novel combines historical detail with a fantastical narrative, offering a haunting and thought-provoking exploration of obsession and the human condition. more

Author

Patrick Süskind

Patrick Süskind is a renowned German writer, born on March 26, 1949. He is best known for his novel 'Perfume', which has been adapted into a successful film, further enhancing his international fame. more

You May Also Like

“My name it means nothing my fortune is less My future is shrouded in dark wilderness Sunshine is far away, clouds linger on Everything I posessed - Now they are gone Oh where can I go to and what can I do? Nothing can please me only thoughts are of you You just laughed when I begged you to stay I've not stopped crying since you went away The world is a lonely place when you're on your own Guess I will go home - sit down and moan. Crying and thinking is all that I do Memories I have remind me of you”

“These words filled me with a sort of melancholy and I was at a loss for an answer, for I felt when I was with him, when I was talking to him - and no doubt it would have been the same with anyone else - none of that happiness which it was possible for me to experience when I was by myself. Alone, at times, I felt surging from the depths of my being one or other ot those impressions which gave me a delicious sense of well-being. But as soon as I was with someone else, as soon as I was talking to a friend, my mind as it were faced about, it was towards this interlocutor and not towards myself that it directed its thoughts, and when they followed this outward course they brought me no pleasure.”