James Joyce: His writing is not about something. It is the thing itself.

HAMM: We're not beginning to... to... mean something? CLOV: Mean something! You and I, mean something! (Brief laugh.) Ah that's a good one!

And what I have, what I am, is enough, was always enough for me, and as far as my dear little sweet little future is concerned I have no qualms, I have a good time coming.

Personally I have no bone to pick with graveyards, I take the air there willingly, perhaps more willingly than elsewhere, when take the air I must.

The search for the means to put an end to things, an end to speech, is what enables the discourse to continue.

Light black. From pole to pole.

I want very much to be back in the caul, on my back in the dark forever.