If you don't know where you are currently standing, you're dead.

I still smile it's not worth the trouble any more for a long time now it's not been worth the trouble the tongue spring goes into the mud I stay like this not thirsty any more the tongue goes back into the mouth it closes it has to make a straight line now it's done I've made the image.

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

I write about myself with the same pencil and in the same exercise book as about him. It is no longer I, but another whose life is just beginning.

What is this love that more than all the cursed deadly or any other of its great movers so moves the soul and soul what is this soul that more than by any of its great movers is by love so moved?

I speak for an art ... weary of its puny exploits, weary of pretending to be able, of being able, of doing a little better the same old thing, of going a little further along a dreary road.

It was the only way to progress, to stop.