Celine, Journey to the end of the night

"But there is love, Bardamu!"
"Love, Arthur, is a poodle's chance of attaining the infinite, and personally I have my pride," I answered him.
"Talk about yourself, you're nothing but an anarchist!" Always the little devil, you see, and just about as advanced as possible.
"You said it, fathead; I am an anarchist! And to prove it, there's a sort of social prayer for vengeance I've written. You can tell me this minute what you think of it. 'Wings of Gold' it's called." And I recited it to him:

"A God who counts the minutes and the pence, a desperate God, sensual and grunting like a pig. A pig with wings of gold which tumbles through the world, with exposed belly waiting for caresses, lo, 'tis he, behold our master! Embrace, embrace!"