A moment of debilitating reflection
He stood here many times; confused, speechless, motionless, indecisive, shaken in his absolute resoluteness. He had the same feelings, the same god-forsaken feelings, looking at the leakage under his sink, when he thought of the possible odorless poison the combination of a water treated with all kind of chemical matters, the paint, the air, and materials of the flooring may produce, and which he might be inhaling without note, slowly destroying-- without pain and with the usual human penchant for life--his internal organs. He stood there as his impulses to act, to do something about it were momentarily questioned by a psychological pathology of rationality, by a strand of skepticism temporarily neutralizing them and dismissing them as feelings of paranoia. He has experienced these same feelings as he indulged in reading medieval theological treatises on human free will. Should he accept that he has a will, for which he is responsible before God, a power to do or not to do an act, a