Personally I have no bone to pick with graveyards, I take the air there willingly, perhaps more willingly than elsewhere, when take the air I must.

That passed the time. It would have passed in any case. Yes, but not so rapidly.

I am still alive then. That may come in useful.

The reality of the individualis an incoherent reality and must be expressed incoherently.

Where am I, I don't know, I'll never know, in the silence, in the silence you don't know, you must go on, I can't go on, I'll go on.

To find a form that accommodates the mess, that is the task of the artist now.

She felt, as she felt so often with Murphy, spattered with words that went dead as soon as they sounded; each word obliterated, before it had time to make sense, by the word that came next; so that in the end she did not know what had been said. It was like difficult music heard for the first time.