You poor baby! And yet—you selfish little bastard! As I try to find the agent behind the act, the motivating force at the bottom of the whole thing, I seem to see only an endless ambivalence. Behind the mask of love I find my innate selfishness. What a predicament I am in if someone asks, 'Do you really love me?' I can't say yes without saying no, for the only answer that will really satisfy is, 'Yes, I love you so much I could eat you! My love for you is identical with my love for myself. I love you with the purest selfishness.' No one wants to be loved out of a sense of duty.