John Winston Ono Lennon, MBE (born John Winston Lennon was just 40 when he died. An English singer and songwriter who rose to worldwide fame as a. : Bagatelles pour un massacre. Texte integral.: in-8°, pages, broche, couv. Reimpression sans mention. Tres bel exemplaire, tres frais. [BU-1]. Mea Culpa, paru le 28 décembre , est le premier des quatre pamphlets de l’ écrivain français Louis-Ferdinand Céline. Texte très court (21 pages), il est suivi de La Vie et l’Œuvre de Semmelweis, Ce texte n’annonce en rien le violent antisémitisme de Bagatelles pour un .. Avec reproduction intégrale du manuscrit.
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Search msssacre history of over billion web intgrxl on the Internet. Trifles for a massacre Original: Bagatelles pour un massacre, Translation of the above: IVIay be copied and cited freely. The footnotes are by the translator.
Contrary to rumor, the pamphlets’ are not forbidden by law, regulation or tribunal. They have not been reissued by reputable publishing houses because the author, having returned to France, wanted to retain the authority on the reissue of the books which he had written, in order to gain his subsistence.
No one has the right to impede the legitimate curiosity of subsequent generations concerning he who was bagateoles incandescent nexus of French literature of the Mid-Twentieth Century. After his demise inhis widow, Lucette Almanzor, a dancer, banned any reprinting of the boo and sued in courts those who tried. We believe the motivation of the widow to be private and do not accept to have such a masterpiece removed from the knowledge of our time.
Readers, and citizen at large, have the choice to read and to know. Nobody can take this right away from them, from us. This is a tendentious explanation of events. It would be more accurate to say that the author “sat on” the reissue of this and similar works, in order not to exacerbate the conditions of ostracism to which he and his works were subject, following the Ppour World War.
Also, his original publisher, Denoel, had been assassinated during the War.
Trifles for a massacre He is wicked, he will not go to Paradise, he who dies without having settled all of text accounts – Almanach des Bons-Enfants The world is full tsxte people who call themselves refined but are not, I declare, the least little bit refined. I, your servant, fully believe that I myself am refined.
I was reluctant to admit it until recently! And then one day I gave in I am all the same a little embarrassed by my refinement What is one going to say?
A valid man of refinement, refined in terms of rectitude, of dress, of social station, ordinarily must write at least as do M. Valery, the “French Theater” To reveal my “favorite records”. I would be able, I myself would easily be able to become a veritable stylist, a “relevant” academic. It’s a matter of effort, over the course of months It would be accomplished It is not possible! And therein lies tragedy. How I was bound-up with emotion Here are the facts, the circumstances I recently poured my heart out to a little buddy of mine, a worthy young doctor in my own specialty, to wit, one Leo Gutman, whose tastes are extremely vivacious, pronounced, virulent, I would even say absolutely despotic, when he talks to me about dancers I asked him his opinion What was going to become of me?
I confided everything about my all-consuming passion to him. Refers derogatorily to the Prix Goncourt. The most nuanced poem in the world! That ineffable poem, warm and delicate which is a dancer’s leg in balanced movement is in touch, Gutman my friend, with the soundings of the very greatest mystery, which is God.
Which is God himself! That’s the gist of what I’ve been thinking! Beginning next week, Gutman, after the end of the term, I no longer want to work save for the dancers Nothing outside of dance! Life has laid hold of them, pure They are calling me!
Bagatelles pour un massacre, Louis-Ferdinand Céline
I am no longer myself I don’t want texxte be tossed away unto eternity! The reason for the world is there. To die by dancer!
I am old, I am going to die soon I want to crumble away, keel over, dissolve, evaporate, turn into a cloud I deserve to perish in the most beautiful way I want her to whisper upon my heart It will cease to beat See to it Gutman that I am close to the dancers!
I want to pass away well, as does everyone, you know A well-born colleague, Gutman! In addition to that and all tezte himself, he had more libido than thirty-six cops, which didn’t spoil anything, and facilitated enormously his comprehension of things.
You don’t have much money Considering that textf will prove to be somewhat repulsive I regard you as being poorly put together Considering that you are not distinguished Considering bgatelles your books are so grotesque, so dirty, that that will surely work against you, and that it would be best not to show them, even more so than your face I will begin by presenting you incognito How does that strike you?
I embarrass myself enormously! I want to be completely clear I myself prefer to remain in the sentry box To espy those lovelies, shielded by a heavy curtain I don’t at all intend to reveal myself personally I only wish to observe the darlings ‘at the bar’ in the utmost secretiveness Not everyone receives the Communion! That’s it all the same! You’ve always had the head of a satyr. Dancers are very skittish. They are hke birds. Do you think so?
Here’s a convenient intermediary He thought it over A poet like M. Tristan Dereme, Valery, the Exposition?
CELINE : Bagatelles pour un massacre – First edition –
Les Gorges du Gardl Pokr Like the entire Spanish Popular front? In a word a poet? In a word a poet! That’s very difficult to answer But in all candor, I think not Such would be seen as. The critics would tell me. They have said that as a treasury uj shit one maseacre do any better.
Which are truly veritable dogs Monsieur Celine disgusts us, tires us, without astonishing us A sub-Zola without flight A poor imbecile with a mania for gratuitous vulgarity.
Celine is a plagiarist of outhouse graffiti Celine isn’t even a madman. This hysteric is a mountebank He counts upon the silliness, the naivete of aesthetes There’s no sort of light in this sewer! One only has to be a snob “of bronze quality” in order to find two pages of this mad reading distasteful