I do not want to be fixed, to be pinioned. I tremble, I quiver, like the leaf in the hedge, as I sit dangling my feet, on the edge of the bed, with a new day to break open. I have fifty years, I have sixty years to spend. I have not yet broken into my hoard. This is the beginning.
Virginia Woolf, The Waves
Life became less easy for me: when the body is sad, the heart languishes. It seemed to me that I was half-unlearning what I had never learned and yet knew so well- how to live. Yes, I think it was probably then that everything began.
The Fall by Albert Camus