“What I’m thinking is: here I am, lying under a haystack... The tiny little place I occupy is so small in relation to the rest of space where I am not and where it’s none of my business; and the amount of time which I’ll succeed in living is so insignificant by comparison with the eternity where I haven’t been and never will be... And yet in this atom, in this mathematical point, the blood circulates, the brain works and even desires something as well... What sheer ugliness! What sheer nonsense!”