I said to myself: Perhaps there is nothing in the world I cling to as much as this feeling of adventure; but it comes when it pleases; it is gone so quickly and how empty I am once it has left me. Does it, ironically, pay me these short visits in order to show me that I have wasted my life?
“
| — | From Nausea by Jean-Paul Sartre, translated by LLoyd Alexander (via demise-of-sanity) |
