Hate is an automatic response to fear, for fear humiliates.
He had opened the book at random several times, seeking a sortes Virgilianae, before he chose the sentences on which his code was to be based. 'You say: I am not free. But I have lifted my hand and let it fall.' It was as if in choosing that passage,...
He opened the book at random, or so he believed, but a book is like a sandy path which keeps the indent of footsteps.
One can't reason away regret-it's a bit like falling in love, falling into regret.
