I was never really insane except upon occasions when my heart was touched
There is no way of communicating inside your head but speech. And if you can’t talk well to yourself, who can you talk to?
Perhaps my life is nothing but an image of this kind; perhaps I am doomed to retrace my steps under the illusion that I am exploring, doomed to try and learn what I should simply recognize, learning a mere fraction of what I have forgotten
He felt that his whole life was some kind of dream and he sometimes wondered whose it was and whether they were enjoying it