the impossibility of "I"

Sometimes I could put myself to sleep saying that over and over until after the honeysuckle got all mixed up in the whole thing come to symbolise night and unrest I seemed to be lying neither asleep nor awake looking down a long corridor of gray halflight where all stable things had become shadowy paradoxical all I had done shadows all I had felt suffered taking visible form antic and perverse mocking without relevance inherent themselves with the denial of the significance they should have affirmed thinking I was I was not who was not was not who. William Faulkner, The Sound and the Fury