A Man Possessed With Peace

Looking Out Over The Courtyard At The Dirty Walls, He Realized He Had No Idea Whether It Was Hysteria Or Love.

...[p]eople Who Shout Joy From The Rooftops Are Often The Saddest Of All... (p.24)

I Cannot Hate Them Because Nothing Binds Me To Them; I Have Nothing In Common With Them.

Suspending Moral Judgment Is Not The Immorality Of The Novel; It Is Its Morality.

But Was It Love? The Feeling Of Wanting To Die Beside Her Was Clearly Exaggerated: He Had Seen Her Only Once Before In His Life! Was It Simply The Hysteria Of A Man, Who, Aware Deep Down Of His Inaptitude For Love, Felt The Self-deluding Need To Simulate It?