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

Every word is like an unnecessary stain on silence and nothingness.

Yes, there is no denying it, any longer, it is not you who are dead, but all the others. So you get up and go to your mother, who thinks she is alive. That's my impression. But now I shall have to get myself out of this ditch. How joyfully I would vanish here, sinking deeper and deeper under the rains.

[T]he syndrome known as life is too diffuse to admit of palliation. For every symptom that is eased, another is made worse. The horse leech's daughter is a closed system. Her quantum of wantum cannot vary.

My dear Tom, Delighted to get your letter. Do write again. This life is terrible and I don't understand how it can be endured.

In the landscape of extinction, precision is next to godliness.

What goes by the name of love is banishment, with now and then a postcard from the homeland, such is my considered opinion, this evening.