Citaten
like Hamlet or Julien Sorel, live outside the pages of the books in which they assumed their characters.
is the feeling of being confronted by a bare existence.
Why is it not otherwise? Why is it at all? What is this is-ness? Isn’t it simply nothing, or rather Nothingness, the unknowable, indispensable Void? What could be more absurd, “non-rational,” meaningless? The mind of man, which he did not ask to be given, demands a reason and a meaning—this is its self-defining cause—and yet it finds itself in the midst of a radically meaningless existence. The result: impasse. And nausea.
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Sleep je bestanden hiernaartoe
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