"The house drifted past. He yawned and winked. 'Taught me to love, bless her sweet ass.' 

Then--as he was talking--a set of tail-lights going past lit up McMurphy's face, and the windshield reflected and expression that was allowed only because he figured it'd be too dark for anybody in the car to see, dreadfully tired and strained and frantic, like there wasn't enough time left for something he had to do. ... 

While his relaxed, good-natured voice doled out his life for us to live, a rollicking past full of kid fun and drinking buddies and loving women and barroom battles over meager honors--for all of us to dream ourselves into."

One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, Ken Kesey