"The atmosphere of the existentialist outsider is unpleasant to breathe. There is something nauseating, anti-life, about it: these men without motive who stay in their rooms because there seems to be no reason for doing anything else. It is essentially an adult world, this world-without-values. The child's world is altogether cleaner; the air tastes of expectation. A big store at Christmas time is a new world. For the sick soul, the man outside, this 'new world' produces a feeling of horror; it is a symbol of a mechanical civilization that runs in grooves like a gramophone record, precluding freedom."