From How Not To Do Time Travel:
You could fault me my lack of curiosity; not listening to what else Finnegan might have said, if I’d played along better, pretended I believed him, let him drive the conversation. Or you might judge my lack of sympathy for a man who was so obviously in distress. You haven’t done the job I did for six years. You can fault anything you like. I’d dealt with more madness than any reasonable person should, in those years. I had little patience for it; especially when it came so very close to me. I was defensive. My defensiveness blinded me to matters of greater importance than I gave them at the time.
I really don’t have to explain myself. Though, you clever folks might point out that, by writing this, I obviously feel I have to explain myself. That’s true. I can’t deny it. But it’s not all about explaining my actions, or my motivations, or trying to convince you that I did the best I could. It’s about leaving a record for everyone to read along the way which might reverse this mess. Or you could think this is just a nice story, entertain yourself for a while, and disregard it. I suppose that’s allright too.