Book: Nausea. Page 2

... the adventure can neither be repeated nor extended.

Died in 1902, mourned his subordinates and people with good taste.

When you want to understand something, you end up with this "something" face to face, all alone, without any help.

Growing up, my aunt Bigw told me: "You too long to look in the mirror, you will see a monkey". But I must have looked even longer - what I see in the mirror, where the lower apes, it is something on the verge of the vegetable world, at the level of the polyps.

These ladies do not know how much they love the beautiful recklessness of their eyes - beautiful and simple flowers that are blooming in the greenhouse.

In the small world of colored people a gesture or an event can be absurd only relative - relative to framing their circumstances. For example, the speech of the madman absurd in relation to the environment in which it is located, but not in relation to his delirium.

I know that nothing do not want: to do something means to create existence, and its already too much.

Meanwhile, the great, wandering nature has crept into their city, penetrated everywhere - in their homes, in their office, in themselves. She didn't stir, she hid, they are full of it, they breathe it, but do not notice, they think she's somewhere outside, twenty leagues from the city. And I, I see it, this nature, see... I know that her obedience - not obedience and laziness, know that the laws are not written for her: what they take for its permanence... It's just habit, and tomorrow it can change.

There is neither Monday nor Sunday - just days that are pounded in a mess, and then suddenly flare, like the current.

I am free, my life has no more any sense, as all what I tried to live, fell down, and anything else I can do.

If only I could stop thinking I would be easier. Ideas - this particularly dreary... They are worse than the flesh. Stretch, stretch without end, leaving a strange aftertaste.

All I know about his life, I think I read from books.

I need to understand myself before it's too late.

You fools! I hate to think that I will see again their stupid, smug face. They make the laws, write populist novels, they get married, reach in his stupidity to the fact that the fruit of children.