Jean-Paul Sartre. The age of maturity (№ 436051)

he suddenly returned to the table, picked up the vase, which turned out to be very heavy, and threw it on the parquet: it suddenly occurred to him, and immediately after that he felt as light as a cobweb. He gazed admiringly at the shards of porcelain: something had just happened to this three-thousand-year-old vase among fifty-year-old walls, under the eternal light of summer, something very bold, like dawn. He thought, "I did it!" - and felt himself proud, free from the world, without attachments, without a family, without roots, a tiny, stubborn sprout that pierced the earth's firmament.