Husserl has restored to things their horror and their charm. He has restored to us the world of artists and prophets: frightening, hostile, dangerous, and with it's havens of mercy and love. He has cleared the way for a new treaties on the passions that would be inspired by this simply truth, so utterly ignored by the refined among us: If we love a woman, it is because she is lovable. We are delivered from Proust.
We are likewise delivered from the 'internal life': in vain would we seek the caresses and fondlings of our intimate selves, like Amiel, or like a child who kisses his own shoulder- for everything is finally outside: everything, even ourselves. Outside, in the world, among others. It is not in some hiding-place that we will discover ourselves; it is on the road, it the town, in the midst of the crowd, a thing among things, a human among humans.
-Jean Paul Sartre