Friendship, According To Proust, Is The Negation

Decidedly It Will Never Have Been Given To Me To Finish Anything, Except Perhaps Breathing. One Must Not Be Greedy.

To Find A Form That Accommodates The Shape Of The Mess, That Is The Task Of The Artist Now.

We Are All Born Crazy. Some Remain That Way.

But What Matter Whether I Was Born Or Not, Have Lived Or Not, Am Dead Or Merely Dying. I Shall Go On Doing As I Have Always Done, Not Knowing What It Is I Do, Nor Who I Am, Nor Where I Am, Nor If I Am.

I Want Very Much To Be Back In The Caul, On My Back In The Dark Forever.