An imaginative adventure does not enjoy the same corsets as reportage.

Watt's concern, deep as it appeared, was not after all what the figure was, in reality, but with what the figure appeared to be, in reality.

Words and images run riot in my head, pursuing, flying, clashing, merging, endlessly. But beyond this tumult there is a great calm, and a great indifference, never really to be troubled by anything again.

If I were in the unenviable position of having to study my work my points of departure would be the "Naught is more real ..." and the "Ubi nihil vales ..." both already in Murphy and neither very rational.

The sun shone, having no alternative, on the nothing new.

If there is one question I dread, to which I have never been able to invent a satisfactory reply, it is the question what am I doing.

The end is in the beginning and yet you go on.