Adulterers, take warning, never admit.

I have always been amazed at my contemporaries’ lack of finesse, I whose soul writhed from morning to night, in the mere quest of itself.

We could have saved sixpence. We could have saved fivepence. But at what cost?

With all this darkness round me I feel less alone.

The loss of my sight was a great fillip. If I could go deaf and dumb I think I might pant on to be a hundred.

I use the words you taught me. If they don't mean anything any more, teach me others. Or let me be silent.

Already all confusion. Things and imaginings. As of always. Confusion amounting to nothing. Despite precautions. If only she could be pure figment. Unalloyed. This old so dying woman. So dead. In the madhouse of the skull and nowhere else. Where no more precautions to be taken. No precautions possible. Cooped up there with the rest. Hovel and stones. The lot. And the eye. How simple all then. If only all could be pure figment. Neither be nor been nor by any shift to be. Gently gently. On. Careful.