Name, no, nothing is nameable, tell, no, nothing can be told, what then, I don't know, I shouldn't have begun.

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.

I gave up before birth.

No painting is more replete than Mondrian's.

What is that unforgettable line?

Two in distressmake sorrow less.

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