An Excerpt from Julian Barnes
She didn't ever search for that sliding panel which opens the secret chamber of the heart, the chamber where memory and corpses are kept. Sometimes you find the panel, but it doesn't open; sometimes it opens, and your gaze meets nothing but a mouse skeleton. But at least you've looked. That's the real distinction between people: not between those who have secrets and those who don't, but those who want to know everything and those who don't. This search is a sign of love, I maintain.
Flaubert's Parrot, Jonathan Cape, 1984, p.127.