I have reached the point, alas, of comparing those words on which we so lightly traverse the space of a thought, to light planks thrown across an abyss, which permit crossing but no stopping. A man in quick motion can use them and get away; but if he hesitates the least bit in the world, this fraction of time breaks them down, and all together fall into the depths. The one who hurries is clever; he must not dwell heavily: he would soon find the clearest speech to be a tissue of obscure terms.
Chapter 4 is by far my favourite chapter of this novel. I'd like to take the whole chapter down but it would just seem redundant.