'If I lied to myself,' said he, 'I should have the feeling I was lying to you as well. And I couldn't bear that.'
'Yes,' said Marcelle; but she did not look as if she believed him.
'You don't look as if you believed me?'
'Oh yes I do,' she said, nonchalantly.
'You think I'm lying to myself?'
'No - anyway, one can't ever know. but I don't think so. Still, do you know what I do believe? That you are beginning to sterilize yourself a little. I thought that today. Everything is so neat and tidy in your mind: it smells of clean linen: it's as though you had just come out of a drying-cupboard. But there's a want of shade. There's nothing useless, nor hesitant, nor underhand about you now. It's all high noon. And don't ell me this is all for my benefit. You're moving down your own incline: you've acquired the taste for self-analysis.'
'Yes,' said Marcelle; but she did not look as if she believed him.
'You don't look as if you believed me?'
'Oh yes I do,' she said, nonchalantly.
'You think I'm lying to myself?'
'No - anyway, one can't ever know. but I don't think so. Still, do you know what I do believe? That you are beginning to sterilize yourself a little. I thought that today. Everything is so neat and tidy in your mind: it smells of clean linen: it's as though you had just come out of a drying-cupboard. But there's a want of shade. There's nothing useless, nor hesitant, nor underhand about you now. It's all high noon. And don't ell me this is all for my benefit. You're moving down your own incline: you've acquired the taste for self-analysis.'
- Jean-Paul Sartre
Into twilight.
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