Words are all we have.

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.

Against the charitable gesture there is no defence.

Normally I didn’t see a great deal. I didn’t hear a great deal either. I didn’t pay attention. Strictly speaking I wasn’t there. Strictly speaking I believe I’ve never been anywhere.

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

What kind of country is this where a woman can't weep her heart out on the highways and byways without being tormented by retired bill-brokers!

They never lynch children, babies, no matter what they do they are whitewashed in advance.