You shall know the truth and the truth shall make you mad. - Aldous Huxley

Not quite. I'm thinking of a queer feeling I sometimes get, a feel that I've got something important to say and the power to say it — only I don't know what it is, and I can't make any use of the power.

You hate the very source of your life, it's ultimate basis — for there's no denying it, 'sex is fundamental. And you hate it, hate it.' 'Me?' It was a novel accusation. Spandrell was accustomed to hearing himself blamed for his excessive love of women and the sensual pleasures. 'Not only you. All these people.' With a jerk of his head he indicated the other diners. 'And all the respectable ones too. Practically everyone. It's the disease of modern man. I call it Jesus's disease on the analogy of Bright's disease. Or rather Jesus's and Newton's disease; for the scientists are as much responsible as the Christians. So are the big business men, for that matter. It's Jesus's and Newton's and Henry Ford's disease. Between them, the three have pretty well killed us. Ripped the life out of our bodies and stuffed us with hatred.' Rampion

The trouble with fiction... is that it makes too much sense. Reality never makes sense.