The only sin is the sin of being born.

The end is in the beginning and yet you go on.

How can one better magnify the Almighty than by sniggering with him at his little jokes, particularly the poorer ones?

My notes have a curious tendency, as I realize at last, to annihilate all they purport to record.

I pause to record that I feel in extraordinary form. Delirium perhaps.

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.

Silence, yes, but what silence! For it is all very fine to keep silence, but one has also to consider the kind of silence one keeps.