“an existence unmolested by the rumbling of a soul.”

Mark Singer in the late 1990s when he was working on a profile of Trump for The New Yorker. 

I might have phrased Singer’s question this way: Who are you, Mr. Trump, when you are alone? Singer never got an answer, leaving him to conclude that the real-estate mogul who would become a reality-TV star and, after that, a leading candidate for president of the United States had managed to achieve something remarkable: “an existence unmolested by the rumbling of a soul.”