Poets are the sense, philosophers­­ the intelligence­­ of humanity.

Perhaps that's what I feel, an outside and an inside and me in the middle, perhaps that's what I am, the thing that divides the world in two, on the one side the outside, on the other the inside, that can be as thin as foil, I'm neither one side nor the other, I'm in the middle, I'm the partition, I've two surfaces and no thickness, perhaps that's what I feel, myself vibrating, I'm the tympanum, on the one hand the mind, on the other the world, I don't belong to either.

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

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.

Estragon: I'm like that. Either I forget right away or I never forget.

Tears and laughter, they are so much Gaelic to me.

The blind have no notion of time. The things of time are hidden from them too.