Nausea

by Jean-Paul Sartre

I told myself, “The third evening, as I was going into a dance hall called La Grotte Bleue, I noticed a large woman, half seas over. And that woman is the one I am waiting for now, listening to ‘Blue Skies,’ the woman who is going to come back and sit down at my right and put her arms around my neck.” Then I felt violently that I was having an adventure.

“Crazy as a loon”—and Doctor Rogé vaguely recalls other crazy loons, not remembering any one of them in particular. Now, nothing M. Achille can do will surprise us: hecause he’s a crazy loon! He is not one: he is afraid. What is he afraid of? When you want to understand something you stand in front of it, alone, without help: all the past in the world is of no use. Then it disappears and what you wanted to understand disappears with it.