When you got right down to it, my dick was the one organ that hadn’t presented itself to my consciousness through pain, only pleasure. Modest but robust, it had always served me faithfully. Or, you could argue, I had served it — if so, its yoke had been easy. It never gave me orders. It sometimes encouraged me to get out more, but it encouraged me humbly, without bitterness or anger. This past evening, I knew, it had interceded on Myriam’s behalf. It had always enjoyed good relations with Myriam, Myriam had always treated it with affection and respect, and this had given me an enormous amount of pleasure. And sources of pleasure were hard to come by. In the end, my dick was all I had. Michel Houellebecq
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More Quotes By Michel Houellebecq
  1. The absence of the will to live is, alas, not sufficient to make one want to die.
  2. Anything can happen in life, especially nothing.
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  4. Life is painful and disappointing. It is useless, therefore, to write new realistic novels. We generally know where we stand in relation to reality and don’t care to know any more.
  5. 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;...
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