We are so far from being presumptuous that we would wish to be known all over the earth, and even by those who come after us when we are dead. We are so far from being vain that the esteem of five—let us make it six—people amuses and honours us.
The least thing consoles us. The greatest things afflict us.
Modesty is so natural in the heart of man that a worker carefully avoids boasting, yet wishes to have his admirers. Philosophers want theirs, too. And poets most of all! Those who write for glory wish to have the distinction of having written well. Those who read wish to have the distinction of having read. I, who write this, boast that I have this wish. Those who read it will do the same.
The mind of the greatest man is not so dependent that he is liable to be troubled by all the hurly-burly around him. It does not take the silence of the cannon to hinder his thoughts. It does not take the noise of a weather-vane or a pulley. The fly cannot gather its thoughts at present. A man is buzzing at its ears. It is enough to make it incapable of good counsel. If I want to discover the truth, I will chase away this animal which keeps its reason in check, troubling this intelligence which governs realms.
The purpose of these people playing tennis with such concentration of the mind and movement of the body is to boast to their friends that they have played better than their opponent. That is the reason for their love of the game. Some sweat in their studies to prove to the mathematical experts that they have solved an algebraical problem which was no problem at all until then. Others expose themselves to dangers to boast of what they have achieved by what, in my opinion, are less spiritual means. The last group try desperately hard to see these things. They are certainly no less wise. It is above all to show that they know how worth-while it is. They are the least foolish of the whole lot. They know hat they are doing. Perhaps the others would not be the same if they did not have this knowledge.
The example of Alexander’s continence has made no more converts to chastity than that of his drunkenness has made teetotalers. People are not ashamed to not be as virtuous as he. They believe their virtues are not quite the same as the generality of men’s when they see these same virtues practised by the great. They cling on to that which he has in common with them. However exalted they may be, they always have a point which connects them with the rest of mankind. They do not hover in the air, separated from our society. If they are greater than we, it is because they are flesh and blood as we are. They are on the same level, they stand on the same ground. At this extremity, they are as exalted as we, as children, a little more than animals.
The best means of persuading consists in not persuading.
Despair is the smallest of our errors.
Whenever we hear of a thought, a truth which is on everyone’s lips, we only need to develop it and we find that it is a discovery.
One can be just, if one is not human.
The storms of youth precede the brilliant days.
Unawareness, dishonour, lubricity, hatred and contempt for men all have their price. Liberality multiplies the advantages of riches.
Those who are honest in their pleasures are also honest in their other dealings. it is the sign of a gentle disposition, since pleasure humanizes.
The moderation of great men limits only their virtues.
We offend me by praising them beyond their strict deserts. Many people are modest enough not to object in the least to being well thought of.
We must expect everything, fear nothing, from time, from men.
If merit and glory do not make men unhappy, then what we call misfortune is not worth their grief. A soul deigns to accept fortune, respite, if it can superimpose on them the strength of its feelings, the flight of its genius.
We admire great designs when we feel capable of great successes.
Reserve is the apprenticeship of minds.
We say sound things when we do not attempt to say extraordinary things.
Nothing which is true is false; nothing which is false is true. All is the contrary of a dream, of illusion.
We must not think that those whom nature has made lovable are vicious. There has never been a century or a people which has inaugurated imaginary virtues and vices.
One can only judge the beauty of life by the beauty of death.
A playwright can give to the word ‘passion’ a meaning of utility. But he is then no longer a playwright. A moralist can give to any word whatsoever a meaning of utility. He remains a moralist just the same!
Whoever examines the life of a man will find it in the history of the species. Nothing has been able to vitiate it.
Do I have to write in verse to set myself apart from other men? Let charity decide!
The pretext of those who make others happy is that they are seeking their good.
Generosity shares in the joys of others as if it were responsible for them.
Order dominates among the human species. Reason and virtue are not the strongest.
Princes have few ungrateful subjects. They give all they can.
We can love with all our heart those in whom we find great faults. It would be impertinent to think that only imperfections have the right to please us. Our weaknesses attach us to each other as much as that which is not virtue could do.
If our friends do favours for us, we think that, as friends, they owe us them. We do not at all think they owe us their enmity.
He who was born to command, would command, even on the throne.
When our duties have exhausted us we think we have exhausted our duties. We say that the heart of man can contain everything.
Everything lives by action. Communication between beings, the harmony of the universe, come from action. We find that this fecund law of nature is a vice in man. He is obliged to obey it. Unable to rest for a moment, we conclude he is left in his place.
We know what the sun and the heavens are. We possess the secret of their movements. In the hands of Elohim, a blind instrument, an imperceptible spring, the world compels our homage. The revolutions of empires, the phases of time, the nations, the conquerors of knowledge, all this comes from a crawling atom, lasts only a day, destroys the spectacle of the universe through all the ages.
There is more truth than errors, more good qualities than bad, more pleasures than pains. We like t examine our character. We exalt ourselves above our species. We adorn ourselves with the esteem which we lavish on it. We think we cannot separate our own interest from that of mankind, that we cannot slander our race without compromising ourselves. This ridiculous vanity has filled books with hymns in favour of nature. Man is in disgrace with all those who think. It is a question of who can accuse him of the most vices. When was he not about to pick himself up, to piece together his virtues?
Nothing has been said. We have come too early. Man has existed for seven thousand years. In the matter of morals, as in everything else, that which is the least good is the most highly thought of. We have the advantage of working after the ancients, after the ablest of the moderns.
We are capable of friendship, justice, compassion, reason. Oh my friends! What then is the absence of virtue?
As long as my friends are still alive, I will not speak of death.
We are dismayed by our relapses and to see that our misfortunes have corrected our faults.
One can only judge the beauty of death by the beauty of life.
The three full stops make me shrug my shoulders with pity. Does one really need that to prove that one is a man of wit, i.e. an imbecile? As if clarity was not as good as vagueness, in the matter of full stops!
Comte de Lautreamont, Maldoror and Poems
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