She thought: 'midday!' The ceiling was grey like the sky at dawn, but the heat was of midday. Marcelle went to bed late and was no longer acquainted with the morning hours; she sometimes had the feeling that her life had come to stop one day at noon, and she herself was an embodied, eternal noontide brooding upon her little world, a dank and rainy world, without scope or purpose. Outside - bright daylight, and bright-coloured frocks.
... A human being who wakened in the morning with a queasy stomach, with fifteen hours to kill before next bed-time, had not much use for freedom. Freedom didn't help a person to live.
- Sartre ' the age of reason'
1 comment:
His own life , I would subsequently learn was functional in the extreme.....The famous degrees of freedom consisted, as far as he was concerned, in choosing his dinner by Minitel.
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