“You’ve turned into a log of wood,” he commented. “You’ve not only lost contact with reality and lost all interest in world events, in your civic duties, in yourself, in your friends (and you did have friends), you’ve not only lost all goals in life, except for winning at roulette–you’ve even renounced your memories. I remember you at an intense, vivid moment in your life, but I’m certain you’ve forgotten the best and strongest emotions that you experienced at that time, and your present dreams and aspirations do not go beyond pair, impair, rouge, noir, the middle twelve numbers, and all that. I’m sure of it.”

“That’ll do, Mr. Astley. Please, don’t remind me of it!” I cried with annoyance, almost spitefully. “And for your information, I haven’t forgotten a thing. I have only temporarily emptied my head of everything, including even my memories, until I’ve radically improved my situation. Then you’ll see, I’ll come back from the dead!”
—The Gambler