I felt that night, on the stage, incredibly close to everything in the universe, but also extremely alone. I wondered, for the first time in my life, if life was worth all the work it took to live. What exactly made it worth it? What’s so horrible about being dead forever, and not feeling anything, and not even dreaming? What’s so great about feeling and dreaming?
He had a wall of masks from every country he‘d been to, like Armenia and Chile and Ethiopia. It‘s not a horrible world, he told me, but it’s filled with a lot of horrible people.
I spent my life learning to feel less. Every day I felt less.
Is that growing old? Or is it something worse?
.. You cannot protect yourself from sadness without protecting yourself from happiness.
Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close,
Jonathan Safran Foer