“Jean-Yves looked up at his mother's face, her greying chignon, her harsh features: it was difficult to feel a rush of tenderness, of affection for this woman; as far back as he could remember, she had never really been one… — Michel Houellebecq Copy Share Image
I think that if writers don't speak about real life, it's because they don't know it. — Michel Houellebecq Copy Share
“In my life, I had known suffering, oppression, anxiety; I had never known boredom. I could see no objection to the endless, imbecile repetition… — Michel Houellebecq Copy Share
I admit that invective is one of my pleasures. This only brings me problems in life, but that's it. I attack, I insult. I… — Michel Houellebecq Copy Share
“... I spent whole afternoons at Bon Marché looking at pullovers, there was no sense in going on like that.” — Michel Houellebecq Copy Share
I've lived so little that I tend to imagine I'm not going to die; it seems improbable that human existence can be reduced to… — Michel Houellebecq Copy Share
Rumor had it that he was homosexual; in reality, in recent years, he was simply a garden-variety alcoholic. — Michel Houellebecq Copy Share
“Olga was nice, Olga was nice and loving, Olga loved him, he repeated to himself with a growing sadness as he also realised that… — Michel Houellebecq Copy Share
“The problem is, it's just not enough to live according to the rules. Sure, you manage to live according to the rules. Sometimes it's… — Michel Houellebecq Copy Share
“Life sometimes offers you a chance, he thought, but when you are too cowardly or too indecisive to seize it life takes the cards… — Michel Houellebecq Copy Share
“An entire life spent reading would have fulfilled my every desire; I already knew that at the age of seven. The texture of the… — Michel Houellebecq Copy Share
Of course, we can distinguish between males and females; we can also, if we choose, distinguish between different age categories; but any more advanced… — Michel Houellebecq Copy Share
A source of permanent, accessible pleasure, our genitals exist. The god who created our misfortune, who made us short-lived, vain and cruel, has also… — Michel Houellebecq Copy Share
