Layers of the self are sedimented by principled deprivations of the great good, which is not pleasure but a combination of affect, intelligence and power as intrinsic to the experiencing, the missed goal of every desire. Every defect of this core enjoyment, including its untimely or ghostly presence, is a mode of pain and destructive passion. Most of the time you are blissfully ignorant of this, but you can know that is constantly present because your dream life and through perceiving the consistency of character in others and hence in yourself. There is nothing surprising in its intermittent flarings. Permitted enjoyments are so contracted that they bear the traces of an infinite melancholia and regret.