Give us this day our daily mask.

Audiences know what to expect, and that is all that they are prepared to believe in.

We've traveled too far, and our momentum has taken over; we move idly towards eternity, without possibility of reprieve or hope of explanation.

Whatever became of the moment when one first knew about death? There must have been one. A moment. In childhood. When it first occurred to you that you don’t go on forever. It must have been shattering, stamped into one’s memory. And yet, I can’t remember it.

Underneath runs the main current of preoccupation, which is keeping one's nose clean at all times. This means that when things go wrong you have to pass the blame along the line, like pass-the-parcel, till the music stops.

James Joyce - an essentially private man who wished his total indifference to public notice to be universally recognized.

What are a friend's books for if not to be borrowed?