Ferdinand Oyono Quotes

A good hunter is like a whore, you can smell one a mile of.

'Brother,’ he said. ‘Brother, what are we? What are we blackmen who are called French?

There are things one prefers not to think about but that doesn't mean one forgets about them.

I went back to the refrigerator and took the opportunity when the Commander was not looking to spit just a few tiny specks spittle into the clean glass I was filling. He drank it down and put the glass back on the tray without looking at me. He waved me away with a nervous movement of the back of his hand.

Is the white man's neighbour only other white men? Who can go on believing the stuff we are served up in the churches when things happen like I saw today...

But for me, it is more than mourning. I have died my first death….

A panther-rat runs along the path. He knows where he is going.

My son, you are young enough to be my son, why do you want to shed blood as old as your own father’s? Why do you want to bring a curse on you and your…

Truth lies beyond the mountains. You must travel to find it.

Ah, these whites, she burst out. The dog can die of hunger beside his master's meat. They don't bury the goat up to the horns. They bury him altogether.

Before them, the statue of Holy person Subside, who had been so darkened by the climate that he could have gone for an African, was roosted dubiously on a sort of steeple at such an edge, that it looked as though in a little while he would come toppling down.

If you heart begins to beat when you get to the end of your journey, retrace your steps.

They lamented 'the Martyr' as they called Father Gilbert because he died on African soil.

My happiness has neither day nor night. I didn't know about it, it just burst upon my whole being. I will sing to my flute, I will sing on the banks of rivers, but no words can express my happiness. I have held the hand of my queen. I felt that I was really alive. From now on my hand is sacred and must not know the lower regions of my body. My hand belongs to my queen whose hair is the colour of ebony, with eyes that are like the antelope's, whose skin is pink and white as ivory. A shudder ran through my body at the touch of her tiny moist hand, She trembled like a flower dancing in the breeze. My life was mingling with hers at the touch of her hand. Her smile is refreshing as a spring of water. Her look is as warm as a ray from the setting sun. It bathes you in a light that warms the depths of the heart. I am afraid... afraid of myself...

Cover up your dirty old arse and show me your papers!