Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try Again. Fail again. Fail better.
If you do not love me I shall not be loved If I do not love you I shall not love.
Where I am, I don't know, I'll never know, in the silence you don't know, you must go on, I can't go on, I'll go on.
I write about myself with the same pencil and in the same exercise book as about him. It is no longer I, but another whose life is just beginning.
Let me go to hell, that's all I ask, and go on cursing them there, and them look down and hear me, that might take some of the shine off their bliss.
We are all born mad. Some remain so.
In the landscape of extinction, precision is next to godliness.
I have my faults, but changing my tune is not one of them.
Just under the surface I shall be, all together at first, then separate and drift, through all the earth and perhaps in the end through a cliff into the sea, something of me. A ton of worms in an acre, that is a wonderful thought, a ton of worms, I believe it.
James Joyce was a synthesizer, trying to bring in as much as he could. I am an analyzer, trying to leave out as much as I can.
Words are all we have.
Every word is like an unnecessary stain on silence and nothingness.
You're on earth. There's no cure for that.
There's man all over for you, blaming on his boots the fault of his feet.
They give birth astride of a grave, the light gleams an instant, then it's night once more.
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