[...] a darkness shining in brightness which brightness could not comprehend.

I'll tickle his catastrophe.

Every life is in many days, day after day. We walk through ourselves, meeting robbers, ghosts, giants, old men, young men, wives, widows, brothers-in-love. But always meeting ourselves.

Your battles inspired me - not the obvious material battles but those that were fought and won behind your forehead.

Though people may read more into Ulysses than I ever intended, who is to say that they are wrong: do any of us know what we are creating?Which of us can control our scribblings? They are the script of one's personality like your voice or your walk

I was happier then. Or was that I? Or am I now I? Can't bring back time. Like holding water in your hand. Would you go back to then? Just beginning then. Would you?

The intellectual imagination! With me all or not at all. NON SERVIAM!