it's not the large things that
    send a man to a
    madhouse...
    no, it's the continuing series of _small_ tragedies
    that send a man to the madhouse...
    not the death of his love
    but a shoelace that snaps
    with no time left...
    the dread of life
    is that huge swarm of trivial shit
    that can kill quicker than cancer
    and which is always there--
    [list of trivial shit]
    
    with each broken shoelace
    one of one hundred broken shoelaces,
    one man, one woman, one
    thing
    enters a
    madhouse. 

- Charles Bukowski, "the shoelace"