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Quote by Carsten Jensen

Work

We, the Drowned

This book delves into the lives of a small, isolated island community, where the inhabitants are bound by a shared history and a deep connection to the sea. The narrative intertwines personal stories with elements of the supernatural, examining the impact of tradition and the struggle for identity in a changing world. more

Author

Carsten Jensen
Carsten Jensen

Carsten Jensen is a renowned Danish author born on July 24, 1952. His works are known for their vivid portrayal of Danish rural life and profound insights into human nature. more

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“Does it stand, but not straight enough? Is there a bend in the tool? Leaning left like the Marxist-Leninist Party? To the right, like the Jan Sangh fascists? Or wobbling mindlessly in the middle, like the Congress Party? Fear not, for it can be straightened! Does it refuse to harden even with rubbing and massage? Then try my ointment, and it will become hard as the government's heart! All your troubles will vanish with this amazing ointment made from the organs of these wild animals! Capable of turning all men into engine-drivers! Punctual as the trains in the Emergency! Back and forth you will shunt with piston power every night! The railways will want to harness your energy! Apply this ointment once a day, and your wife will be proud of you! Apply it twice a day, and she will have to share you with the whole block!”

“A misbegotten hatchling of consciousness, a birth defect of our species, imagination is often revered as a sign of vigor in our make-up. But it is really just a psychic overcompensation for our impotence as beings. Denied nature’s exemption from creativity, we are indentured servants of the imaginary until the hour of our death, when the final harassments of imagination will beset us.”

“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.”