I came into contact (the receptionist at the Hôtel Mercure, the waiters at the café O’Jules, the girl on the till at Carrefour City) had asked about my mood, I would have been inclined to call it ‘sad’, but it was a peaceful, stable sadness, not susceptible to increase or decrease; a sadness, in short, that to all intents and purposes appeared definitive. But I wasn’t falling into that trap; I knew that life might still have plenty of surprises, either atrocious or delightful, in store for me.
Serotonin: A Novel
Michel Houellebecq