“why did I have to keep learning this same thing over and over?”

“Maybe we were all destined to just keep doing the same stupid things, over and over again, never really learning a single thing.”

“You know ... you keep doing the same things and you keep getting the same result over and over again.”

“bye-bye love, as in songs. All alone now. It was so sad. Why did such things have to disintegrate like that? Why did longing and desire, and friendliness and goodwill too, have to shatter into pieces? Why did they have to be so thoroughfully over?I could make myself cry even more by repeating the key word: love,alone, sad, over. I did it on purpose.”

“Why did he keep going when everyone else got to start over?”

“What is this called, what I am doing, to myself, to my life, this wallowing, this pondering, this rolling over and over in the same places of my memory, wearing them thin, wearing them out? Why don't I ever learn? Why don't I ever do anything different?”