“Saintliness is very odd. When people encounter it, they often take it for something else, something completely unlike it: indifference, mockery, scheming, coldness, insolence, perhaps even contempt. But they’re mistaken, and that makes them furious. They commit an awful crime. This is doubtless the reason why most saints end up as martyrs.”
— Philippe Claudel
“Oh little Poupchette, some may tell you that you are nobody’s child, a child of defilement, a child begotten in fear and horror. Some may tell you that you are a child of abomination conceived in abomination, a tainted child, a child polluted long before you were born. Do not pay attention to them, my little sweetheart, please do not listen to them; listen to me. I say you are my child and I love you. I sometimes say that out of horror, beauty and purity and grace are born. I say I am your father for ever. I say the loveliest rose can bloom in contaminated soil. I say you are the dawn, the light of all my tomorrows, and the only thing that matters is the promise you represent. I say you are my luck and my forgiveness. My darling Poupchette, I say you are my whole life.”
— Philippe Claudel
“They shall arrive in a murmurAnd shall disappear into fog and earth”
— Philippe Claudel
“It’s always been difficult for me to speak and express my innermost thoughts. I prefer to write. When I sit down and write, words grow very docile, they come and feed out of my hand like little birds, and I can do almost what I want with them; whereas when I try to marshal them in open air, they fly away from me.”
— Philippe Claudel
“??? ??????? ??? ?????????, ??? ???? ?????????? ??? ??????? ???. ?????????? ??? ???????, ?? ????????, ??? ?? ???? ??? ???????, ?? ???? ???. ????? ??? ??????? ??? ????? ????????? ?? ???????; ??? ? ????? ??????? ????????? ???? ??? ????? ????? ??????? ? ??? ?? ????? ????; ????? ???? ?????, ????? ??? ????? ????????????? ?? ??? ???????????? ??? ??????? ?? ???????? ? ????? ??? ?????? ??? ???? ?,?? ??? ??? ???????; ?????, ??? ?? ??????, ??? ?? ?????????? ?? ????, ???? ?????? ?’ ??????????? ??? ? ?????????????? ??? ????? ???????? ??????? ? ????? ?????? ?? ????????? ???? ???? ?????????????? ???? ???? ??? ????? ?????? ??? ????? ???????????; ??????? ???? ??? ????? ??? ??????????; ??? ??????? ?? ???? ?? ??? ???????? ??? ??? ????????? ??? ??????, ???????? ??? ?????????????? ??? ???? ????????????????? ??? ???????; ????? ? ??????? ????? ? ??????? ??????? ???????? ??? ??????????? ????????? ??????, ???? ?? ?????? ????????? ??? ???????? ? ???????? ??? ?? ??? ?????? ???? ????? ????? ??? ????????? ?????????? ??? ?????????? ???? ??? ??????? ???? ??? ???????? ????, ??? ???????????? ??? ????????, ??????????? ???????, ?????? ????????? ????????? ?? ???????? ??????????;”
— Philippe Claudel
“…In the end, there’s no sort of difference between dying from ignorance and dying under the feet of thousands of men who have regained their freedom. You close your eyes, and then there’s nothing anymore. And death is never difficult. It requires neither a hero nor a slave. It eats what it’s served.”
— Philippe Claudel
“Why did I, like thousands of others, have to carry a cross I hadn’t chosen, a cross which was not made for my shoulders and which didn’t concern me? Who decided to come rummaging around in my obscure existence, invade my gray anonymity, my meager tranquility, and bowl me like a little ball in a great game of skittles? God? Well, in that case, if He exists, if He really exists, let Him hide His face. Let Him put His two hands on His head, and let Him bow down. It may be, as Peiper used to teach us, that many men are unworthy of Him, but now I know that He, too, is unworthy of most of us, and that if the creature is capable of producing horror, it’s solely because his Creator has slipped him the recipe for it.”
— Philippe Claudel