‘Someone once compared the undertaking of Descartes to the action of a man who sets his house on fire in order to hear the noise the rats make in the attic at night. These noises of running, scurrying, chewing, and gnawing that interrupt his sleep. I want to sleep peacefully. Good-bye then. To hell with the building that the rat came to ruin. I want to think without an error, communicate without a parasite. So I set the house on fire, the house of my ancestors.’ (12)
Stop it.
If you’ll excuse me, I need to go read a copy of ‘NW’ while noisily consuming a Slurpee and scratching myself in public, kthxbye.
