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The dust will not settle in our time. And when it does some great roaring machine will come and whirl it all skyhigh again.

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To find a form that accommodates the mess, that is the task of the artist now.
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It was long since I had longed for anything and the effect on me was horrible.
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I marshalled the words and opened my mouth, thinking I would hear them. But all I heard was a kind of rattle, unintelligible even to me who knew what was intended.
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Friendship, according to Proust, is the negation of that irremediable solitude to which every human being is condemned.
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We have time to grow old. The air is full of our cries. But habit is a great deadener.
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Go on failing. Go on. Only next time, try to fail better.
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