“
We wake from our doings in a deep sweat for that they happened in a house without an address, in a street in no town, citizened with people with no names with which to deny them. Their very lack of identity makes them ourselves. For by a street number, by a house, by a name, we cease to accuse ourselves. Sleep demands of us a guilty immunity. There is not one of us who, given an eternal incognito, a thumbprint nowhere set against our souls, would not commit rape, murder and all abominations.
”
―
―
“
Selles voodis oleksime unustanud oma elu, oleksime jõudnud mäletamise äärmise piirini; me kehad oleksid ühte sulanud, justnagu kujud vahakujude muuseumis on sulatatud ühte nende ajalooga, nii oleksime meie lagunenud armastuseks.
”
― Nightwood
― Nightwood
