Author of quotes: Michel Houellebecq. Page 13

France faced a wave of severe cold, every morning the sidewalks were found frozen Homeless. I understood: they're not going to open for them, the shelters do not wish to live among their own kind; it's a wild world populated by cruel and stupid people, whose stupidity in some particularly nasty way heightens the cruelty; the world does not know of any solidarity or pity: fights, rape, torture - the most common cause; a world, in fact just as deadly as a prison, with the only difference that the guards are missing, and the danger is always present.

- At a certain age, in my opinion, it is not so easy to go, ' he said, as if reading my mind. - Not so many reasons to go somewhere, and do not want. And then, there's so much to do, so much of any formalities, hassle... to go to the store, wash. You have to spend more time on their own health, just to maintain the body in a more or less working condition. Starting from a certain point, life becomes administrative - in the first place.
After the departure of Isabel, I forgot how to talk to people smarter than yourself, able to guess my thoughts; and most importantly, what he said was horribly, devastatingly true...

But this time things were directly related to me, and I clearly was aware that the juxtaposition of eroticism and tenderness - one of the greatest abominations of our age, of those that endure with no right to appeal the death sentence of an entire civilization.

Together with eroticism almost immediately disappears and tenderness. There is no immaculate relationships and sublime unions of souls, nothing even remotely similar. When physical love goes, goes, sluggish, shallow disappointment fills the monotonous string of days. And with respect to the physical love I was under no illusions. Youth, beauty, strength: the criteria for physical love are exactly the same as that of Nazism. In short, I sat in deep shit.

There are moments when literally hear the mocking sound of time slipping away in the silence and comfort,
And death is ahead of us on points.
Becomes boring, and agree briefly distracted from the main, to do some tedious, but necessary, considering that it will take three minutes
And after you longing notice that two hours have disappeared for some reason.
Time is cruel to us.

The nausea in the late evening - the inevitable phenomenon. Something like a pre-planned nightmare. Finally I cease to know and begin to think.
The emptiness inside is growing. Here it is. Complete detachment from reality. Like hanging in the middle of nowhere at a point equidistant from all that is happening around, under the influence of a magnetic field of tremendous power.
In this condition, when you cannot make contact with the outside world, the night can seem very long. So it seems.
Perhaps this is the guarantee of your safety, but you're not able to feel it. You will understand it later, when again out on the street, when once again the day will come when you will return to the world.
By nine o'clock he is already gaining momentum. The rotation of the world gracefully, it is accompanied by a slight hum. The world will drag you in the whirlwind, forced to hurry - so jump on the bandwagon started from the platform of the train.
But it is impossible to catch up. And again you're going to wait for nightfall, which, however, as usual, will bring with it the helplessness, uncertainty and fear.
And so it will continue day by day until the end of the world.