One day you begin to talk less and less about the things you have most cherished, and if you say, by force. You are filled with your own conversations. You try to reduce them. Then you stop completely. You have not spoken for thirty years. You don’t even try to be right anymore. You lose the desire to retain even a drop of joy that you have managed to create for yourself. Everything becomes disgusting. Now on the road leading to nowhere, you just have to eat a little, warm up and sleep as strongly as possible.

by Louis Ferdinand Celine