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.

The new light above my table is a great improvement. With all this darkness around me I feel less alone. (Pause.) In a way. (Pause.) I love to get up and move about in it, then back here to... (hesitates) ...me. (Pause.)

How hideous is the semicolon.

To find a form that accommodates the mess, that is the task of the artist now.

The memory came faint and cold of the story I might have told, a story in the likeness of my life, I mean without the courage to end or the strength to go on.

They give birth astride of a grave, the light gleams an instant, then it's night once more.

Imagination at wit's end spreads its sad wings.