I also believe I met William Gaddis once. He did not look Italian.

What do any of us ever truly know?

Was it really some other person I was so anxious to discover...or was it only my own solitude that I could not abide?

The morning’s recollection of the emptiness of the day before. Its anticipation of the emptiness of the day to come.

Can Protagonist think of a single film that interests him as much as the three-hundredth best book he ever read?

In fact one frequently seemed to gather all sorts of similar information about subjects one had less than profound interest in.

Doubtless these are inconsequential perplexities. Still, inconsequential perplexities have now and again been known to become the fundamental mood of existence, one suspects.