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.

Every word is like an unnecessary stain on silence and nothingness.

Love, that is all I asked, a little love, daily, twice daily, fifty years of twice daily love like a Paris horse-butcher's regular, what normal woman wants affection?

Unfathomable mind, now beacon, now sea.

But I know what darkness is, it accumulates, thickens, then suddenly bursts and drowns everything.

The dust will not settle in our time. And when it does some great roaring machine will come and whirl it all skyhigh again.

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