No, I regret nothing, all I regret is having been born, dying is such a long tiresome business I always found.

The essential is to go on squirming forever at the end of the line, as long as there are waters and banks and ravening in heaven asporting God to plague his creature, per pro his chosen shits.

Yes, I dont know why, but I have never been disappointed, and I often was in the early days, without feeling at the same time, or a moment later, an undeniable relief.

I, of whom I know nothing, I know my eyes are open, because of the tears that pour from them unceasingly.

Tears and laughter, they are so much Gaelic to me.

I use the words you taught me. If they don't mean anything any more, teach me others. Or let me be silent.

...you must say words, as long as there are any, until they find me, until they say me, strange pain, strange sin, you must go on, perhaps it's done already, perhaps they have said me already, perhaps they have carried me to the threshold of my story, before the door that opens on my story, that would surprise me, if it opens, it will be I, it will be the silence, where I am, I don't know, I'll never know, in the silence you don't know, you must go on, I can't go on, I'll go on