You would do better, at least no worse, to obliterate texts than to blacken margins, to fill in the holes of words till all is blank and flat and the whole ghastly business looks like what it is, senseless, speechless, issueless misery.

Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try Again. Fail again. Fail better.

Spend the years of learning squandering Courage for the years of wandering Through a world politely turning From the loutishness of learning.

Let me go to hell, that's all I ask, and go on cursing them there, and them look down and hear me, that might take some of the shine off their bliss.

Normally I didn’t see a great deal. I didn’t hear a great deal either. I didn’t pay attention. Strictly speaking I wasn’t there. Strictly speaking I believe I’ve never been anywhere.

Yes, there were times when I forgot not only who I was but that I was, forgot to be.

You are not satisfied unless form is so strictly divorced from content that you can comprehend the one without almost without bothering to read the other.