What the deuce! let us go to the bottom of it!
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.
Immortality, Bishop, is a chance, a waiting for dead men''s shoes.
Ah! what a charming promise! trust to it, if you like! 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.
Ta, ta, ta!
What twaddle all these paradises are!
God is a nonsensical monster.
I would not say that in the Moniteur, egad! but I may whisper it among friends. Inter pocula.
To sacrifice the world to paradise is to let slip the prey for the shadow.
Be the dupe of the infinite! I''m not such a fool.
I am a nought.
I call myself Monsieur le Comte Nought, senator.
Did I exist before my birth?
No. Shall I exist after death?
No. 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.
Whither will suffering lead me?
To nothingness; but I shall have suffered.