Spend the years of learning squandering Courage for the years of wandering Through a world politely turning From the loutishness of learning.

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.

That's what hell must be like, small chat to the babbling of Lethe about the good old days when we wished we were dead.

Nothing matters but the writing. There has been nothing else worthwhile... a stain upon the silence.

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

The essential doesn't change.

We lose our hair, our teeth! Our bloom, our ideals.