All other expressions lie in a winter sleep, life is simply one continual watch against the menace of death;⁠—it has transformed us into unthinking animals in order to give us the weapon of instinct⁠—it has reinforced us with dullness, so that we do not go to pieces before the horror, which would overwhelm us if we had clear, conscious thought⁠—it has awakened in us the sense of comradeship, so that we escape the abyss of solitude⁠—it has lent us the indifference of wild creatures, so that in spite of all, we perceive the positive in every moment, and store it up as a reserve against the onslaught of nothingness. Thus we live a closed, hard existence of the utmost superficiality, and rarely does an incident strike out a spark. But then unexpectedly a flame of grievous and terrible yearning flares up.