It is useless not to seek, not to want, for when you cease to seek you start to find, and when you cease to want, then life begins to ram her fish and chips down your gullet until you puke, and then the puke down your gullet until you puke the puke, and then the puked puke until you begin to like it.

I don't know why I told this story. I could just as well have told another. Perhaps some other time I'll be able to tell another. Living souls, you will see how alike they are.

To every man his little cross. Till he dies. And is forgotten.

I try. I fail. I try again. I fail better.

Decidedly it will never have been given to me to finish anything, except perhaps breathing. One must not be greedy.

All poetry, as discriminated from the various paradigms of prosody, is prayer.

I tried to groan, Help! Help! But the tone that came out was that of polite conversation.