Why is it that so many people despise themselves, find their lives droll and barren. Is it because we are conditioned to not enough life? Have we been trained to seek out the things that only bring us more misery? Or do we secretly enjoy sorrow?
"I am exhilarated by the tremendous unimportance of my work. It is nonsense. My employers are nonsensical. The job therefore leaves me free. There's nothing to it. In a way it's like getting a piece of bread from a child in return for wiggling your ears. It is childish. I am the only one in this fifty-three-story building who knows how childish it is. Everybody else takes it seriously. Because this is a fifty-three-story building, they think it must be serious".