“Something about a man always trying to make sense of things until sense no longer suits him. How he must hammer at your inclination towards sensibility, make a fuss about it, claim it doesn’t suit you, that he has no use for you. And you, gentle creature that you are, surrender, abandon the a priori, submit to the concrete, the destructible, all for a man who knows, in a way, that he is beneath you, they all are, your minds will never meet, and that it is a kind of grace on our parts to submit submit submit.”