Nothing is funnier than unhappiness, I grant you that. Yes, yes, it's the most comical thing in the world.

Our vulgar perception is not concerned with other than vulgar phenomena.

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.

Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try Again. Fail again. Fail better.

It is right that he too should have his little chronicle, his memories, his reason, and be able to recognize the good in the bad, the bad in the worst, and so grow gently old down all the unchanging days, and die one day like any other day, only shorter.

If I had the use of my body, I would throw it out the window.

And truly it little matters what I say, this or that or any other thing. Saying is inventing. Wrong, very rightly wrong. You invent nothing, you think you are inventing, you think you are escaping, and all you do is stammer out your lesson, the remnants of a pensum one day got by heart and long forgotten, life without tears, as it is wept.