“…in truth it was all just an illusion, just as solid matter is an illusion, just as our bodies are an illusion, pretending to be one thing when really they are millions upon millions of atoms coming and going, some arriving while others are leaving us forever, as if each of us were only a great train station, only not even that since at least in a train station the stones and the tracks and the glass roof stay still while everything else rushes through it, no, it was worse that that, more like a giant empty field where every day a circus erected and dismantled itself, the whole thing from top to bottom, but never the same circus, so what hope did we really have of ever making sense of ourselves, let alone one another?”
"How little I understood of him then, of how the more you hide, the more it becomes necessary to withdraw, how soon it becomes impossible to live among others."
"Of course it isn't that simple. One doesn't choose between the outer and the inner life; they co-exist, however poorly. The question is: Where does one place the emphasis?"