large/7215/rameaus_nephew_bb3_librivox_64kb_mp3/rameausnephew_8_diderot_64kb_64
large/7215/rameaus_nephew_bb3_librivox_64kb_mp3/rameausnephew_8_diderot_64kb
English
7215
It's a damnable economy with men who cram themselves with everything while others whose stomachs are just as demanding as theirs and have a recurring hunger like theirs have nothing to chew on. The worst thing is the way our need compels us to a certain posture. The man in need doesn't walk like another man  he jumps, he grovels, he wriggles, he crawls. He spends his life taking up and carrying out various positions. IT'S A DAMNABLE ECONOMY WITH MEN WHO CRAM THEMSELVES WITH EVERYTHING WHILE OTHERS WHOSE STOMACHS ARE JUST AS DEMANDING AS THEIRS AND HAVE A RECURRING HUNGER LIKE THEIRS HAVE NOTHING TO CHEW ON THE WORST THING IS THE WAY OUR NEED COMPELS US TO A CERTAIN POSTURE THE MAN IN NEED DOESN'T WALK LIKE ANOTHER MAN HE JUMPS HE GROVELS HE WRIGGLES HE CRAWLS HE SPENDS HIS LIFE TAKING UP AND CARRYING OUT VARIOUS POSITIONS
ound of the ratchet but who'd have made up some fine songs. Rameau, go to the mill--the mill that's where you belong." ME: Whatever a man devotes himself to, nature has destined him for that. HIM: She makes some strange blunders. In my case, I'm not looking down from that height where everything merges into one--where the man who prunes a tree with cutters and the caterpillar who eats the leaves seem nothing but two different insects, each doing his own work. Go and perch on the epicycle of Mercury and from there, like Reamur who classifies flies into seamstresses, surveyors, and harvesters, you can divide up the human species into woodworkers, carpenters, roofers, dancers, singers--whatever you like. I won't get involved in it. I'm in the world, and I'm staying here. But if it's part of nature to have an appetite--for it's always appetite I come back to, to the feeling which is always present in me--I find that it's not part of a good order if one doesn't always have something to eat. LISTENS TO ANYTHING BUT THE SOUND OF THE WRETCHED BUT WHO'D HAVE MADE UP SOME FINE SONGS RAMO GO TO THE MILL THE MILL THAT'S WHERE YOU BELONG ME WHATEVER A MAN DEVOTES HIMSELF TO NATURE HAS DESTINED HIM FOR THAT HIM SHE MAKES SOME STRANGE BLUNDERS IN MY CASE I'M NOT LOOKING DOWN FROM THAT HEIGHT WHERE EVERYTHING MERGES INTO ONE WHERE THE MAN WHO PRUNES A TREE WITH CUTTERS AND THE CATERPILLAR WHO EATS THE LEAVES SEEMS NOTHING BUT TWO DIFFERENT INSECTS EACH DOING HIS OWN WORK GO AND PERCH ON THE EPICYCLE OF MERCURY AND FROM THERE LIKE REMOUR WHO CLASSIFIES FLIES INTO SEAMSTRESSES SURVEYORS AND HARVESTERS YOU CAN DIVIDE UP THE HUMAN SPECIES INTO WOOD WORKERS CARPENTERS ROOFERS DANCERS SINGERS WHATEVER YOU LIKE I WON'T GET INVOLVED IN IT I'M IN THE WORLD AND I'M STAYING THERE BUT IF IT'S PART OF NATURE TO HAVE AN APPETITE FOR IT'S ALWAYS APPETITE I COME BACK TO TO THE FEELING WHICH IS ALWAYS PRESENT IN ME I FIND THAT IT'S NOT PART OF A GOOD ORDER IF ONE DOESN'T ALWAYS HAVE SOMETHING TO EAT
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