Michel Houellebecq Quotes

O God, O God, how weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable seem to me all the uses of this world!

Oh, cold world -- I have grown so weary of you and all your horrible bathrooms.

I am tired to death! tired of every thing! I would give the universe for a disposition less difficult to please. Yet, after all, what is there to give pleasure? When one has seen one thing, one has seen every thing.

You try for a little happiness, and what do you get? A few memories and a fat stomach!

The world, a tired performer, offers us another half-assed season.

I got so I was really just sick of sculpture.

I don't think the world is a particularly pleasant place.

How does one get bored of life?

No one is satisfied with their life's work.

I hate entertainment.

The flesh, alas, is sad, and I have read all the books.

I seated ugliness on my knee, and almost immediately grew tired of it.

An artist is an artist because he is not happy with the world, so he creates his own existence.

The world itself makes us sick of the world.

Awareness of time as flying has some advantages; it precludes boredom, for one thing. It matters little that younger people find older people boring or slow. Older people have a right to resist being rushed, to stand and stare at the fragile world that has become so unspeakably dear to them. For the lucky ones, who will not have to leave while they are still in love with life, there will come a later time when that passion too will fade, but while one is still possessed by that great tenderness, it must be yielded to.

"What do you want out of life?" I asked, and I used to ask that all the time of girls. "I don't know," she said. "Just wait on tables and try to get along." She yawned. I put my hand over her mouth and told her not to yawn. I tried to tell her how excited I was about life and the things we could do together; saying that, and planning to leave Denver in two days. She turned away wearily. We lay on our backs, looking at the ceiling and wondering what God had wrought when He made life so sad.

If all we seek is an escape, what does that say about the world we live in? That village, that city, that life? We are desperate with our dreams. What - oh, what - does that say?

He had the look of one who had drunk the cup of life and found a dead beetle at the bottom.

Life is islands of ecstasy in an ocean of ennui, and after the age of thirty land is seldom seen.

And the more she could imagine this island, the less she liked the real world. The more she could imagine the people, the less she liked any real people.

This world is gradually becoming a place Where I do not care to be any more.

The more I see of the world, the more am I dissatisfied with it.

The theater is so disappointing, really, that it's hard to go again and again. It's just too heartbreaking. I'd rather watch football or play a game or read.

As the world is weary of me so am I of it.