“There is no escape from yesterday because yesterday has deformed us, or been deformed by us. The mood is of no importance. Deformation has taken place.”

I gave up before birth.

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

Life is habit. Or rather life is a succession of habits.

Fail, fail again, fail better.

I use the words you taught me. If they don’t mean anything any more, teach me others. Or let me be silent.

You’re on earth. There’s no cure for that.

Birth was the death of him.

In my head there are several windows, that I do know, but perhaps it is always the same one, open variously on the parading universe.

Reality, whether approached imaginatively or empirically, remains a surface, hermetic.

Yes, there were times when I forgot not only who I was but that I was, forgot to be.

It was long since I had longed for anything and the effect on me was horrible.

Love, that is all I asked, a little love, daily, twice daily, fifty years of twice daily love like a Paris horse-butcher’s regular, what normal woman wants affection?

Memories are killing. So you must not think of certain things, of those that are dear to you, or rather you must think of them, for if you don’t there is the danger of finding them, in your mind, little by little.

To every man his little cross. Till he dies. And is forgotten.

He who has waited long enough, will wait forever. And there comes the hour when nothing more can happen and nobody more can come and all is ended but the waiting that knows itself in vain.

All has not been said and never will be.

Love is a flame that burns everything other than itself. It is the destruction of all that is false and the fulfillment of all that is true.

For me, love carries the seeds of its own destruction.

Only when the last tree has died and the last river been poisoned and the last fish been caught will we realise we cannot eat money.

These scars bear witness but whether to repair or to destruction I no longer know.

Nature allows Destruction nor collapse of aught, until Some outward force may shatter by a blow, Or inward craft, entering its hollow cells, Dissolve it down.

This will make the transition happen with less death and destruction.

A society composed of none but the wicked could not exist; it contains within itself the seeds of its own destruction, and without a flood, would be swept away from the earth by the deluge of its own iniquity.

Atheism is a system which can communicate neither warmth nor illumination, except from those fagots which your mistaken zeal has lighted up for its destruction.