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" You're on earth. There's no cure for that. "

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" Birth was the death of him. "

" Nothing matters but the writing. There has been nothing else worthwhile... a stain upon the silence. "

" We are all born mad. Some remain so. "

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

" What do I know of man's destiny? I could tell you more about radishes. "

" All I know is what the words know, and dead things, and that makes a handsome little sum, with a beginning and a middle and an end, as in the well-built phrase and the long sonata of the dead. "

" To find a form that accommodates the mess, that is the task of the artist now. "

" I have my faults, but changing my tune is not one of them. "

" If you do not love me I shall not be loved If I do not love you I shall not love. "

" Where I am, I don't know, I'll never know, in the silence you don't know, you must go on, I can't go on, I'll go on. "

" 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. "

" I can't go on. I'll go on. "

" We are not saints, but we have kept our appointment. How many people can boast as much? "

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

" Habit is a great deadener. "

" I shall state silences more competently than ever a better man spangled the butterflies of vertigo. "

" I write about myself with the same pencil and in the same exercise book as about him. It is no longer I, but another whose life is just beginning. "

" Words are all we have. "

" The tears of the world are a constant quality. For each one who begins to weep, somewhere else another stops. The same is true of the laugh. "

" James Joyce was a synthesizer, trying to bring in as much as he could. I am an analyzer, trying to leave out as much as I can. "

" There's man all over for you, blaming on his boots the fault of his feet. "

" Every word is like an unnecessary stain on silence and nothingness. "

" Do we mean love, when we say love? "

" No, I regret nothing, all I regret is having been born, dying is such a long tiresome business I always found. "