If we isolate the stray thought, the passing thought,” he said, “the thought whose origin is unfathomable, then we begin to understand that we are routinely deranged, everyday crazy.”
We loved the idea of being everyday crazy. It rang so true, so real.
“In our privatest mind,” he said, “there is only chaos and blur. We invented logic to beat back our creatural selves. We assert or deny. We follow M with N.”
Our privatest mind, we thought. Did he really say that?
“The only laws that matter are laws of thought.”
His fists were clenched on the tabletop, knuckles white.
“The rest is devil worship," he said.

Autore: Don DeLillo