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honest work is only called honest because it keeps the poor man poor,
But he knows that these mysteries are God’s and that they ought not to frighten him, but humble him.
that in our suffering, we are all of us totally, irrevocably alone.
He knew hunger before he knew there was a word for it, that peculiar tightening, that hollow.
And then his great hunger becomes all that he can hold in his mind and he can no longer think of anything else.
Sometimes he worries that hunger is all he is. He thought it would go away. That with time it would diminish.
Tarare realises he faces down an existence of unrelenting, insatiable want. Of eternal suffering.
A BAS LES ARISTOCRATS DOWN WITH THE ARISTOCRATS
I would be driven mad for you, Antoine, he wants to say. It would be worth it to hold you lovingly.
all my life I have stood at the threshold of my life waiting to be let in because of this hunger,
Who feasts and who starves, entirely a matter of chance—chance then reified and made sacred, made other than it is, through God and debt and machines.
it took you until now to see this, Tarare? That no one in the whole wide known world—not
cares if you live or die? That you have made yourself picaresque, a curio, fit only for sport or mockery, to be cast aside like a battered plaything when the appetite for either is exhausted?
