And I sort of frowned about that, thinking. 'You felt ill this afternoon,' he said, 'because you're getting better. When we're healthy we respond to the presence of the hateful with fear and nausea. You're becoming healthy, that's all.

Great Music, it said, and Great Poetry would like quieten Modern Youth down and make Modern Youth more Civilized. Civilized my syphilised yarbles.

You don't say, 'I've done it!' You come, with a kind of horrible desperation, to realize that this will do.

Beckett does not believe in God, though he seems to imply that God has committed an unforgivable sin by not existing.

The ideal reader of my novels is a lapsed Catholic and failed musician, short-sighted, colour-blind, auditorily biased, who has read the books that I have read.

...the essential intention is the real sin. A man who cannot choose ceases to be a man.

With both agents and publishers hungry for bestsellers, literature will have to end up as a cottage industry.