• Aymeric had married within his circle, that’s what happens most often in the end, and it’s what gives the best results in principle, well, that’s what I’d heard anyway, but my problem is that I had no circle, no precise circle.

    Serotonin: A Novel
    Michel Houellebecq

  • I dreamt that Camille had been welcomed at my parents’ house in Senlis and I nearly talked to her about it when I woke up, but then I remembered that they were dead–I’ve always had difficulties with death, it’s a characteristic trait of mine.

    Serotonin: A Novel
    Michel Houellebecq

  • I hope I have explained clearly enough that I have never had what is called a strong personality; I wasn’t one of those people who leave indelible traces in history, or even in the memories of their contemporaries.

    Serotonin: A Novel
    Michel Houellebecq

  • But there is also a very high level of cortisol–the quantities of cortisol that you’re secreting are incredible. In fact … can I speak frankly?’ I said he could, that had been more or less the tone of our exchanges until now–frankness. ‘Well, in fact…’ He hesitated even so, his lips trembled slightly before he said: ‘I have the sense that you are, very simply, dying of sorrow.’ ‘Is there such a thing as dying of sorrow; does that mean anything?’ was the only answer that came to mind.

    Serotonin: A Novel
    Michel Houellebecq

  • For my part, without loved ones, it seemed to me that I was accepting the idea of death more and more easily; of course I would have liked to be happy, to be part of a happy community–all humans want that–but, well, it was really out of the question at this stage.

    Serotonin: A Novel
    Michel Houellebecq

  • But death imposes itself in the end: the molecular armour cracks, the process of decomposition resumes its course. It probably happens more quickly for those who have never belonged to the world, who have never imagined living, or loving, or being loved; those who have always known that life was not within their reach.

    Serotonin: A Novel
    Michel Houellebecq

  • Everything which might have been a source of pleasure, of participation, of innocent sensual harmony, has become a source of suffering and unhappiness. At the same time I feel, and with impressive violence, the possibility of joy.

    Whatever
    Michel Houellebecq

  • From time to time I stop beside the road, I smoke a cigarette, I shed a few tears and then I press on. I wish I were dead. But ‘there is a road to travel, and it must be travelled.’

    Whatever
    Michel Houellebecq

  • “We feel nostalgia for a place simply because we’ve lived there, whether we lived well or badly scarcely matters. The past is always beautiful. So, for that matter, is the future. Only the present hurts, and we carry it around like an abscess of suffering, our companion between two infinities of happiness and peace.”

    Submission
    Michel Houellebecq

  • “On Sunday morning I went out for a while in the neighbourhood; I bought some raisin bread. The day was warm but a little sad, as Sundays often are in Paris, especially when one doesn’t believe in God.”

    Whatever
    Michel Houellebecq