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In a form ever modifying with scientific discovery they hold that 'the good' is a superman, bodiless yet bodily, with a beginning but without an end. It is an attractive faith, enabling them to say to Nature: 'Je m'en fiche de tout cela. My big brother will look after me Pom! One may call it anthropomorphia, for it seems especially soothing to strong personalities.
Soames was startled, but she had underrated his caution and tenacity. "If you know," he said coldly, "why do you plague me?" Fleur saw that she had overreached herself. "I don't want to plague you, darling. As you say, why want to know more? Why want to know anything of that 'small' mystery Je m'en fiche, as Profond says?" "That chap!" said Soames profoundly.
I say my fear had been considerable, especially of the man with the knife, but I got too angry to remember it, and advancing my face also to this insulter's I shouted, 'Dio Ladro! Dios di mi alma! Sanguinamento! Nombre di Dios! Che? Che vole? Non sono da Venezia io! Sono de Francia! Je m'en fiche da vestra Venezia! Non se vede che non parlar vestra lingua? Che sono forestiere? and so forth.
He had been lashing himself up all along into such a state of brutal ferocity, that he would have been disappointed if his extortion had been immediately satisfied; so he broke in savagely on the chaplain's confused excuses and promises to settle everything at a fitting season: "Tais toi, blagueur! On ne me floue pas ainsi avec des promesses; je m'en fiche pas mal.
"Indeed, dearest, it is no scene for little girls to look upon." "And when I am grown up what shall I have to talk about if I miss all the great sights?" "Come to your room, love. You will see only too much from your windows. I am going to your mother." "Ce n'est pas la peine. She is in one of her tempers, and has locked herself in." "No matter. She will see me." "Je m'en doute.
But there were other death-ships that might come sailing through the sky on a fair night without wind or moon. The enemy tried to affright the soul of Paris by warnings of the destruction coming to them with a fleet of Zeppelins. But Paris scoffed. "Je m'en fiche de vos Zeppelins!" said the spirit of Paris.
Les plus courts plaisirs de ce monde Souvent font les meilleurs amours. Sais-je au moment ou je te quitte Ou m'entraine mon astre errant? Je m'en vais pourtant, ma petite, Bien loin, bien vite, Adieu, Suzon!"
They would quiet down when they had fulfilled their tidal fever of dispossessing and destroying; when the creations and the properties of others were sufficiently broken and defected they would lapse and ebb, and fresh forms would rise based on an instinct older than the fever of change the instinct of Home. "Je m'en fiche," said Prosper Profond.
Je m'en foutism is a natural product of three years of war, and better by far than the docile despair to which so many German soldiers have been reduced. We were in Lyon when the Russian Revolution and the German retreat from Bapaume were reported. The town and railway station were full of soldiers. No enthusiasm, no stir of any kind, only the usual tired stoicism.
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