Amused detachment always seemed to him to be the biggest lie, one of the more pretentious strands of will puffing itself up so as to claim to be the chief or most essential one. In the night he could see that there is not the slightest difference in the way of it's tangledness time's knots between this one and any other project of desire. Where it differed was only in a certain respectability, a purely social value with little to offer beyond that sphere. Hence, his frequently repeated visits to the foul rag-and-bone shop.