He succeeded in being considered totally uninteresting. People left him alone. And that was all he wanted.
Perfume: The Story of a Murderer ~ Patrick Süskind
Perfume: The Story of a Murderer ~ Patrick Süskind
Showing posts with label perfume. Show all posts
Showing posts with label perfume. Show all posts
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Odors have a power of persuasion stronger than that of words, appearances, emotions, or will. The persuasive power of an odor cannot be fended off, it enters into us like breath into our lungs, it fills us up, imbues us totally. There is no remedy for it.
Perfume: The Story of a Murderer ~ Patrick Süskind
Perfume: The Story of a Murderer ~ Patrick Süskind
He possessed the power. He held it in his hand. A power stronger than the power of money or the power of terror or the power of death: the invincible power to command the love of mankind. There was only one thing that power could not do: it could not make him able to smell himself.
Perfume: The Story of a Murderer ~ Patrick Süskind
Perfume: The Story of a Murderer ~ Patrick Süskind
We are familiar with people who seek out solitude: penitents, failures, saints, or prophets. They retreat to deserts, preferably, where they live on locusts and honey. Others, however, live in caves or cells on remote islands; some-more spectacularly-squat in cages mounted high atop poles swaying in the breeze. They do this to be nearer God. Their solitude is a self-mortification by which they do penance. They act in the belief that they are living a life pleasing to God. Or they wait months, years, for their solitude to be broken by some divine message that they hope then speedily to broadcast among mankind.
Grenouille's case was nothing of the sort. There was not the least notion of God in his head. He was not doing penance or waiting for some supernatural inspiration. He had withdrawn solely for his own pleasure, only to be near to himself. No longer distracted by anything external, he basked in his own existence and found it splendid. He lay in his stony crypt like his own corpse, hardly breathing, his heart hardly beating-and yet lived as intensively and dissolutely as ever a rake lived in the wide world outside.
Perfume: The Story of a Murderer ~ Patrick Süskind
Grenouille's case was nothing of the sort. There was not the least notion of God in his head. He was not doing penance or waiting for some supernatural inspiration. He had withdrawn solely for his own pleasure, only to be near to himself. No longer distracted by anything external, he basked in his own existence and found it splendid. He lay in his stony crypt like his own corpse, hardly breathing, his heart hardly beating-and yet lived as intensively and dissolutely as ever a rake lived in the wide world outside.
Perfume: The Story of a Murderer ~ Patrick Süskind
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