We should have thought of it when the world was young, in the nineties.

She felt, as she felt so often with Murphy, spattered with words that went dead as soon as they sounded; each word obliterated, before it had time to make sense, by the word that came next; so that in the end she did not know what had been said. It was like difficult music heard for the first time.

Decidedly it will never have been given to me to finish anything, except perhaps breathing. One must not be greedy.

I, of whom I know nothing, I know my eyes are open, because of the tears that pour from them unceasingly.

I gave up before birth.

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

Just under the surface I shall be, all together at first, then separate and drift, through all the earth and perhaps in the end through a cliff into the sea, something of me. A ton of worms in an acre, that is a wonderful thought, a ton of worms, I believe it.