Donathien Alfonse Francois Sade

A perverzi�r�l reg�nyt �rni, s�t arra filoz�fi�t �p�teni el�sz�r egy francia nemes mert: Donathien Alfonse Francois Sade. Neve mindenkinek ismer�sen csenghet, hiszen � a szadizmus keresztapja. Sade m�rki 1740-ben sz�letett �s 1814-ig �lt, de 74 �v�b�l 27-et elmegy�gyint�zetben t�lt�tt.

Id�zetek a Sade m�rki j�t�kai c. filmb�l:

Madeleine: Your publisher says I'm not to leave without another manuscript.
Marquis de Sade: I've just the story. It's the unhappy tale... of a virginal laundry lass. The darling of the lower wards where they entomb the criminally insane.
Madeleine: Is it awfully violent?
Marquis de Sade: Most assuredly.
Madeleine: Is it terribly erotic?
Marquis de Sade: Fiendishly so. But it comes with a price. A kiss for each page.

�

Marquis de Sade: You've already stolen my heart... as well as another more prominent organ, south of the Equator.

��

Abbe du Coulmier:�This is a complete and utter disappointment.
Marquis de Sade: Yes, it is. The paper's cheap. The type's too small.

---

Coulmier: It's not even a proper novel. It's nothing but an encyclopedia of perversions. Frankly, it even fails as an exercise in craft. The characters are wooden, the diologue is inane. Not to mention the repetition of words like "nipple" and "pikestaff".
Marquis de Sade: There I was taxed; it's true.
Coulmier: And such puny scope. Nothing but the worst in man's nature.
Marquis de Sade: I write of the great, eternal truths that bind together all mankind. The whole world over, we eat, we shit, we fuck, we kill and we die.
Coulmier: But we also fall in love, we build cities, we compose symphonies, and we endure. Why not put that in your books as well.