Even the worst book can give us something to think about.

But they know about us, they know, the four corners, and the chairs nearby us. Discerning shadows also know, and even the table keeps quiet.

Even boredom should be described with gusto. How many things are happening on a day when nothing happens?

Even a graphomaniac is an extremely complicated person.

I'd have to be really quick to describe clouds - a split second's enough for them to start being something else.

Somewhere out there the world must have an end.

Loveless work, boring work, work valued only because others haven't got even that much, however loveless and boring - this is one of the harshest human miseries.