My thought is me: that's why I can't stop. I exist because I think... and I can't stop myself from thinking. At this very moment— it's frightful —if I exist, it is because I am horrified at existing. I am the one who pulls myself from the nothingness to which I aspire: the hatred, the disgust of existing, there are as many ways to make myself exist, to thrust myself into existence.
—Jean-Paul Sartre, Nausea













