The helpful thought for which you look Is written somewhere in a book.

Ideally, if anything [was] any good, it would be indescribable.

Not everything in life can be interpreted metaphorically; that's because things fall out on the way.

I thought I'd be a librarian until I met some crazy ones.

Mr Earbrass stands on the terrace at twilight. It is bleak; it is cold; and the virtue has gone out of everything. Words drift through his mind: anguish turnips conjunctions illness defeat string parties no parties urns desuetude disaffection claws loss Trebizond napkins shame stones distance fever Antipodes mush glaciers incoherence labels miasma amputation tides deceit mourning elsewards.

More is happening out there than we are aware of. It is possibly due to some unknown direful circumstance.

If you're doing nonsense it has to be rather awful, because there'd be no point. I'm trying to think if there's sunny nonsense. Sunny, funny nonsense for children — oh, how boring, boring, boring. As Schubert said, there is no happy music. And that's true, there really isn't. And there's probably no happy nonsense, either.