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Why kid ourselves, people have nothing to say to one another, they all talk about their own troubles and nothing else. Each man for himself, the earth for us all. They try to unload their unhappiness on someone else when making love, they do their damnedest, but it doesn't work, they keep it all, and then they start all over again, trying to find a place for it. "Your pretty, Mademoiselle," they say. And life takes hold of them again until the next time, and then they try the same little gimmick. "You're very pretty, Mademoiselle..." And in between they boast that they've succeeded in getting rid of their unhappiness, but everyone knows it's not true and they've simply kept it all to themselves. Since at the little game you get uglier and more repulsive as you grow older, you can't hope to hide your unhappiness, your bankruptcy, any longer. In the end your features are marked with that hideous grimace that takes twenty, thrity years or more to climb form your belly to your face. That's all a man is good for, that and no more, a grimace that he takes a whole lifetime to compose. The grimace a man would need to express his true soul without losing any of it is so heavy and complicated that he doesn't always succeed in completing it. Louis-Ferdinand C?line, Journey to the End of the Night

Tags:

Why

kid

ourselves



people

have

nothing

to

say

to

one

another



they

all

talk

about

their

own

troubles

and

nothing

else



Each

man

for

himself



the

earth

for

us

all



They

try

to

unload

their

unhappiness

on

someone

else

when

making

love



they

do

their

damnedest



but

it

doesn

t

work



they

keep

it

all



and

then

they

start

all

over

again



trying

to

find

a

place

for

it



"Your

pretty



Mademoiselle

"

they

say



And

life

takes

hold

of

them

again

until

the

next

time



and

then

they

try

the

same

little

gimmick



"You

re

very

pretty



Mademoiselle





" And

in

between

they

boast

that

they

ve

succeeded

in

getting

rid

of

their

unhappiness



but

everyone

knows

it

s

not

true

and

they

ve

simply

kept

it

all

to

themselves



Since

at

the

little

game

you

get

uglier

and

more

repulsive

as

you

grow

older



you

can

t

hope

to

hide

your

unhappiness



your

bankruptcy



any

longer



In

the

end

your

features

are

marked

with

that

hideous

grimace

that

takes

twenty



thrity

years

or

more

to

climb

form

your

belly

to

your

face



That

s

all

a

man

is

good

for



that

and

no

more



a

grimace

that

he

takes

a

whole

lifetime

to

compose



The

grimace

a

man

would

need

to

express

his

true

soul

without

losing

any

of

it

is

so

heavy

and

complicated

that

he

doesn

t

always

succeed

in

completing

it



Louis

Ferdinand

C

line



Journey

to

the

End

of

the

Night



 Good Luck!