With all this darkness round me I feel less alone.

Two in distressmake sorrow less.

Birth was the death of him.

But what matter whether I was born or not, have lived or not, am dead or merely dying. I shall go on doing as I have always done, not knowing what it is I do, nor who I am, nor where I am, nor if I am.

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

There's no lack of void.

Was I asleep? Had I slept?