He had always been sad in this way, or rather lacking in gaiety, like some lakes in whose waters is reflected a very high mountain, which shuts out sunlight from it and makes it black and melancholy. One knows that, if only the mountain could be removed, the sun would bring a smile to the face of the waters; but the mountain is always there and the lake is always sad. Like the lake, he too was sad; but what the mountain was, he could not have told.

(p.86)

The Conformist - Alberto Moravia