There may always be another reality to make fiction of the truth we think we've arrived at.

I travel light; as light, that is, as a man can travel who will still carry his body around because of its sentimental value.

Indulgences, not fulfillment, is what the world Permits us.

There may always be another reality to make fiction of the truth we think we've arrived at.

How can we be scrupulous In a life which, from birth onwards, is so determined To wring us dry of any serenity at all?

The dark is light enough.

Day's work is still to do, Whatever the day's doom.