Unknown to him as outerspace: a link, with a thing at its destination

almost seems like self-restraint (of a kind where dependent clauses and
elongated, self-reflexive rumination betrays its subject) according to
its self-disciplining logic:
http://www.newyorker.com/fiction/features/2007/02/05/070205fi_fiction_wallace?currentPage=all


new variation of an old(ish) theme:

"It was of two great and terrible armies within himself, opposed and facing each other, silent. Or never a battle — the armies would stay like that, motionless, looking across at each other, and seeing therein something so different and alien from themselves that they could not understand, could not hear each other’s speech as even words or read anything from what their face looked like, frozen like that, opposed and uncomprehending, for all human time. Two-hearted, a hypocrite to yourself either way."

This is unlikely to stop, FYI. And I'm sorry, to you, dear reader, to whom this is (obviously or not) directed.