What goes by the name of love is banishment, with now and then a postcard from the homeland, such is my considered opinion, this evening.

Watt's concern, deep as it appeared, was not after all what the figure was, in reality, but with what the figure appeared to be, in reality.

We always find something, eh Didi, to let us think we exist?

For to know nothing is nothing, not to want to know anything likewise, but to be beyond knowing anything, to know you are beyond knowing anything, that is when peace enters in, to the soul of the incurious seeker.

Clear to me at last that the dark I have always struggled to keep under is in reality my most

The tears of the world are a constant quantity. For each one who begins to weep, somewhere else another stops. The same is true of the laugh.

I try. I fail. I try again. I fail better.