Light black. From pole to pole.

The fact would seem to be, if in my situation one may speak of facts, not only that I shall have to speak of things of which I cannot speak, but also, which is even more interesting, but also that I, which is if possible even more interesting, that I shall have to, I forget, no matter. And at the same time I am obliged to speak. I shall never be silent. Never.

I cannot explain my plays. Each must find out for himself what is meant

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

No painting is more replete than Mondrian's.

Life is habit. Or rather life is a succession of habits.

I hope I am not too old to take it up seriously, nor too stupid about machines to qualify as a commercial pilot. I do not feel like spending the rest of my life writing books that no one will read. It is not as though I wanted to write them.