You live like this, sheltered, in a delicate world, and you believe you are living. Then you read a book… or you take a trip… and you discover that you are not living, that you are hibernating. The symptoms of hibernating are easily detectable: first, restlessness. The second symptom {when hibernating becomes dangerous and might degenerate into death}: absence of pleasure. That is all. It appears like an innocuous illness. Monotony, boredom, death. Millions live like this {or die like this} without knowing it. They work in offices. They drive a car. They picnic with their families. They raise children. And then some shock treatment takes place, a person, a book, a song, and it awakens them and saves them from death. Some never awaken.
( Anaïs Nin )
[ The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. ]
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