'I live alone, entirely alone. I never speak to anyone, never; I receive nothing, I give nothing… When you live alone you no longer know what it is to tell something: the plausible disappears at the same time as the fiends. You let events flow past; suddenly you see people pop up who speak and who go away, you plunge into stories without beginning or end: you make a terrible witness. But in compensation, one misses nothing, no improbability or, story too tall to be believed in cafes.'
- excerpt from 'nausea' by jean-paul sartre.
(i ordered this book about a week ago online after i couldnt find it in any bookstores around here. i really long to read it, im growing a bit impatient)
- excerpt from 'nausea' by jean-paul sartre.
(i ordered this book about a week ago online after i couldnt find it in any bookstores around here. i really long to read it, im growing a bit impatient)
