If I didn't have my parents to think about I'd have given in my notice a long time ago, I'd have gone up to the boss and told him just what I think, tell him everything I would, let him know just what I feel. He'd fall right off his desk! And it's a funny sort of business to be sitting up there at your desk, talking down at your subordinates from up there, especially when you have to go right up close because the boss is hard of hearing.

Life is merely terrible; I feel it as few others do. Often — and in my inmost self perhaps all the time — I doubt whether I am a human being.

I have spent my life resisting the desire to end it.

Heaven is dumb, echoing only the dumb.

If education tries to make other persons out of us than we essentially are, deeper inside, it stultifies, and reproach matters.

We photograph things in order to drive them out of our minds. My stories are a way of shutting my eyes.

I dream of a grave, deep and narrow, where we could clasp each other in our arms as with clamps, and I would hide my face in you and you would hide your face in me, and nobody would ever see us any more