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Let us stick to nature, then. We are at the top; let us have a superior philosophy. Let us live merrily. Life is all. Because I shall have to render an account of my actions. After death.

HeavensDust - Annihilation

What a fine dream! After my death it will be a very clever person who can catch me. Have a handful of dust seized by a shadow-hand, if you can. Let us tell the truth, we who are initiated, and who have raised the veil of Isis: there is no such thing as either good or evil; there is vegetation. Let us seek the real.

Let us get to the bottom of it. Let us go into it thoroughly. What the deuce! We must scent out the truth; dig in the earth for it, and seize it. Then it gives you exquisite joys. Then you grow strong, and you laugh. I am square on the bottom, I am. What a fine lot Adam has! We are souls, and we shall be angels, with blue wings on our shoulder-blades.

Do come to my assistance: is it not Tertullian who says that the blessed shall travel from star to star? Very well. We shall be the grasshoppers of the stars. And then, besides, we shall see God.

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A Concise Sanskrit English Dictionary (Reprint)

Ta, ta, ta! What twaddle all these paradises are! God is a nonsensical monster. I would not say that in the Moniteur, egad! Inter pocula. To sacrifice the world to paradise is to let slip the prey for the shadow. Be the dupe of the infinite! I am a nought. I call myself Monsieur le Comte Nought, senator. Did I exist before my birth? Shall I exist after death? What am I? A little dust collected in an organism.

What am I to do on this earth? The choice rests with me: suffer or enjoy.

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Whither will suffering lead me? To nothingness; but I shall have suffered. Whither will enjoyment lead me? To nothingness; but I shall have enjoyed myself. My choice is made. One must eat or be eaten.


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I shall eat. It is better to be the tooth than the grass. Such is my wisdom. After which, go whither I push thee, the grave-digger is there; the Pantheon for some of us: all falls into the great hole.

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Total liquidation. This is the vanishing-point. Death is death, believe me. I laugh at the idea of there being any one who has anything to tell me on that subject. Fables of nurses; bugaboo for children; Jehovah for men. No; our tomorrow is the night.

Beyond the tomb there is nothing but equal nothingness. You have been Sardanapalus, you have been Vincent de Paul — it makes no difference. That is the truth. Then live your life, above all things.

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Make use of your I while you have it. In truth, Bishop, I tell you that I have a philosophy of my own, and I have my philosophers.


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  • Of course, there must be something for those who are down — for the barefooted beggars, knife-grinders, and miserable wretches. Legends, chimeras, the soul, immortality, paradise, the stars, are provided for them to swallow. They gobble it down. They spread it on their dry bread. He who has nothing else has the good. That is the least he can have. I oppose no objection to that; but I reserve Monsieur Naigeon for myself.

    The good God is good for the populace. Not every one who wants it can have it. Those who have succeeded in procuring this admirable materialism have the joy of feeling themselves irresponsible, and of thinking that they can devour everything without uneasiness — places, sinecures, dignities, power, whether well or ill acquired, lucrative recantations, useful treacheries, savory capitulations of conscience — and that they shall enter the tomb with their digestion accomplished.

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    How agreeable that is! I do not say that with reference to you, senator. Nevertheless, it is impossible for me to refrain from congratulating you. You great lords have, so you say, a philosophy of your own, and for yourselves, which is exquisite, refined, accessible to the rich alone, good for all sauces, and which seasons the voluptuousness of life admirably. This philosophy has been extracted from the depths, and unearthed by special seekers. But you are good-natured princes, and you do not think it a bad thing that belief in the good God should constitute the philosophy of the people, very much as the goose stuffed with chestnuts is the truffled turkey of the poor.

    In order to furnish an idea of the private establishment of the Bishop of D— — and of the manner in which those two sainted women subordinated their actions, their thoughts, their feminine instincts even, which are easily alarmed, to the habits and purposes of the Bishop, without his even taking the trouble of speaking in order to explain them, we cannot do better than transcribe in this place a letter from Mademoiselle Baptistine to Madame the Vicomtess de Boischevron, the friend of her childhood.

    This letter is in our possession. It is our established custom; but there is another reason besides.