Louis-Ferdinand CÉLINE (1894-1961) L.A.S., [Korsør] 20 [April 1948], to Dr. Odette Poulain; 5p. in-fol., stamped envelope. Magnificent letter raging against Sartre and the accusations made against him. "You see what I'm accused of, the whole Grief, and that I'm still alive! Nothing else! Sartre's tartufery and others and all! Ah, if I'd let my throat be cut on Rue Girardon... that would be perfect! If they'd shit on my grave! That it would be a done deal, treacherous, disgusting and patata. [...] But I'm alive, for God's sake! And this good cow feather! good accounts! I'm waiting to be judged - pronounced - struck down! So let's get on with the music! All my crimes need to be spelled out in black and white. Judgment, indictments, the terrible hic le SEUL. I'm waiting. - To get out of the insinuations, the imbecilic slanders, to give birth to an insanely shitty synthetic monster. I'll make the whole world see it, admire it, in black and white too. Word by word, as beautifully as Sartre does - only better. I'm like a professional boxer, I can't stand fighting. But if you force me. It's the mat. I run away from a fight, but if I'm forced then yop! the account. Oh, I don't whine. Don't moan. I'm dealing with stupid coyotes. They're just wasting my time"... The booklet is ready: "It'll go round the world. I guarantee it. - The Liberation of the Instincts. - It's not that I'm looking for a fight. I've got a thousand better things to do than untangle myself from these furious, maniacal, idiotic rabble-rousers... Leave me alone, and that's all there is to it! But if they want to be spoiled, they'll be spoiled for the time they waste on me. Ignobles, idiots, scoundrels, I can't help it. I've taken far too much care of them. It's not funny"...