Puta merda, a gente fica repetitivo, mas como é bom voltar pra "casa":

"Why does that obstinate little voice in our heads torment us so?" he said, looking around the table. "Could it be because it reminds us that we are alive, of our mortality, of our individual souls - which, after all, we are too afraid to surrender but yet make us feel more miserable than any other thing? But isn't it also pain that makes us feel aware of self? It is a terrible thing to learn as a child that one is a thing separate from all the world, that no one and no thing hurts along with one's burned tongues and skinned knees, that one's aches and pains are all one's own. Even more terrible, as we grow older, to learn that no person, no matter how beloved, can ever truly understand us. Our own selves make us most unhappy, and that's why we're so anxious to lose them, don't you think? Remember the Erinyes?"

"The Furies", said Bunny, his eyes dazzled and lost beneath a bang of hair.

"Exactly And how did they drive people mad? They turned up the volume of the inner monologue, magnified qualities already present to great excess, made people so much themselves they couldn't stand it."