the boy detective flails

Sitting in his office late into the night, doing some combination of working and floundering, the boy detective opens up Firefox and Googles up a passage he remembers from The Life and Opinions of Tristam Shandy, Gentleman:

Inconsistent soul that man is!--languishing under wounds, which he has the power to heal!--his whole life a contradiction to his knowledge!--his reason, that precious gift of God to him--(instead of pouring in oil) serving but to sharpen his sensibilities--to multiply his pains, and render him more melancholy and uneasy under them!--Poor unhappy creature, that he should do so!--Are not the necessary causes of misery in this life enow, but he must add voluntary ones to his stock of sorrow;--struggle against evils which cannot be avoided, and submit to others, which a tenth part of the trouble they create him would remove from his heart for ever?

Sometimes the boy detective has crises of spirit or confidence over exactly what he understands himself to be doing and why he is doing it. These episodes can be counted upon to pass. Knowledge of this does little to lessen the unpleasantness of their experience while underway.