1
Why did I, like thousands of others, have to carry a cross I hadn't chosen, a cross which was not made for my shoulders and which didn't concern me? Who decided to come rummaging around in my obscure existence, invade my gray anonymity, my meager tranquility, and bowl me like a little ball in a great game of skittles? God? Well, in that case, if He exists, if He really exists, let Him hide His face. Let Him put His two hands on His head, and let Him bow down. It may be, as Peiper used to teach us, that many men are unworthy of Him, but now I know that He, too, is unworthy of most of us, and that if the creature is capable of producing horror, it's solely because his Creator has slipped him the recipe for it.Philippe Claudel
2
...In the end, there's no sort of difference between dying from ignorance and dying under the feet of thousands of men who have regained their freedom. You close your eyes, and then there's nothing anymore. And death is never difficult. It requires neither a hero nor a slave. It eats what it's served.Philippe Claudel
3
Την επομÎνη δεν κουνήθηκα, όλη μÎÏα αναμασοÏσα τιÏ‚ σκÎψειÏ‚ μου. Σκεφτόμουν την ΙστοÏία, με κεφαλαία, και τη δική μου ιστοÏία, τη δική μαÏ‚. Αυτοί που γÏάφουν την Ï€Ïώτη γνωÏίζουν τη δεÏτεÏη; Î ÏŽÏ‚ η μνήμη κάποιων συγκÏατεί αυτό που άλλοι Îχουν ξεχάσει ή δεν το είδαν ποτÎ; ΠοιοÏ‚ Îχει δίκιο, αυτόÏ‚ που είναι αποφασισμÎνοÏ‚ να μην εγκαταλείψει στο σκοτάδι το παÏελθόν ή αυτόÏ‚ που πετάει στη λήθη ÏŒ, τι δεν τον βολεÏει; Μήπως, για να ζήσειÏ‚, για να συνεχίσειÏ‚ να ζειÏ‚, ίσως Ï€ÏÎπει ν’ αποφασίσειÏ‚ ότι η Ï€Ïαγματικότητα δεν είναι απολÏτως αληθινή ή μήπως Ï€ÏÎπει να επιλÎξειÏ‚ μιαν άλλη Ï€Ïαγματικότητα όταν αυτή που ÎχειÏ‚ βιώσει σου είναι δυσβάσταχτη; Άλλωστε αυτό δεν Îκανα στο στÏατόπεδο; Δεν επÎλεξα να ζήσω με την ανάμνηση και την Ï€Ïοσδοκία τηÏ‚ ΕμÎλια, πετώνταÏ‚ την καθημεÏινότητά μου στην εξωπÏαγματικότητα του εφιάλτη; Μήπως η ΙστοÏία είναι η μÎγιστη αλήθεια υφασμÎνη από εκατομμÏÏια ξεχωÏιστά ψÎματα, όπως οι παλιÎÏ‚ κουβÎÏτεÏ‚ που Îφτιαχνε η ΦεντοÏίν για να μαÏ‚ θÏÎψει όταν ήμουν παιδί και φαίνονταν καινοÏÏιεÏ‚ και πανÎμοÏφεÏ‚ μÎσα στο ουÏάνιο τόξο των χÏωμάτων τουÏ‚, ενώ αποτελοÏνταν από κουÏÎλια, ανομοιογενή σχήματα, μαλλιά αμφίβοληÏ‚ ποιότηταÏ‚ κι άγνωστηÏ‚ Ï€ÏοÎλευσηÏ‚; .Philippe Claudel
4
It's always been difficult for me to speak and express my innermost thoughts. I prefer to write. When I sit down and write, words grow very docile, they come and feed out of my hand like little birds, and I can do almost what I want with them; whereas when I try to marshal them in open air, they fly away from me.Philippe Claudel
5
They shall arrive in a murmur And shall disappear into fog and earthPhilippe Claudel
6
Oh little Poupchette, some may tell you that you are nobody's child, a child of defilement, a child begotten in fear and horror. Some may tell you that you are a child of abomination conceived in abomination, a tainted child, a child polluted long before you were born. Do not pay attention to them, my little sweetheart, please do not listen to them; listen to me. I say you are my child and I love you. I sometimes say that out of horror, beauty and purity and grace are born. I say I am your father for ever. I say the loveliest rose can bloom in contaminated soil. I say you are the dawn, the light of all my tomorrows, and the only thing that matters is the promise you represent. I say you are my luck and my forgiveness. My darling Poupchette, I say you are my whole life. .Philippe Claudel
7
Saintliness is very odd. When people encounter it, they often take it for something else, something completely unlike it: indifference, mockery, scheming, coldness, insolence, perhaps even contempt. But they're mistaken, and that makes them furious. They commit an awful crime. This is doubtless the reason why most saints end up as martyrs.Philippe Claudel