I lay down across her with my face in her breasts and my hand on her. We lay there without moving. But under us all moved, and moved us, gently, up and down, and from side to side.

What is that unforgettable line?

If there is one question I dread, to which I have never been able to invent a satisfactory reply, it is the question what am I doing.

The confusion is not my invention. We cannot listen to a conversation for five minutes without being aware of the confusion. It is all around us and our only chance now is to let it in. The only chance of renovation is to open our eyes and see the mess. It is not a mess you can make sense of.

Dying for dark — and the darker the Worse. Strange.

They never lynch children, babies, no matter what they do they are whitewashed in advance.

What are we doing here, that is the question.