I just kind of conjured them up out of my subconscious and put them in order of ascending peculiarity.
Mr Earbrass stands on the terrace at twilight. It is bleak; it is cold; and the virtue has gone out of everything. Words drift through his mind: anguish turnips conjunctions illness defeat string parties no parties urns desuetude disaffection claws loss Trebizond napkins shame stones distance fever Antipodes mush glaciers incoherence labels miasma amputation tides deceit mourning elsewards.
I thought I'd be a librarian until I met some crazy ones.
A small and sinister snow seems to be coming down relentlessly at present. The radio says it is eventually going to be sleet and rain, but I don't think so; I think it is just going to go on and on, coming down, until the whole world...etc. It has that look.
My favorite journey is looking out the window.
To take my work seriously would be the height of folly.
Explaining something makes it go away, so to speak; what's important is left after you have explained everything else.
I tend to be rather inconsequential and trail off.
God knows, there's enough to worry about without worrying about worrying about things.
Such excess of passion is quite out of fashion
The helpful thought for which you look Is written somewhere in a book.
When people are finding meaning in things - beware.
Some tiny creature, mad with wrath, is coming nearer on the path.
My mission in life is to make everybody as uneasy as possible. I think we should all be as uneasy as possible, because that's what the world is like.
I don't think anything might have been. What is, is.
I am a person before I am anything else. I never say I am a writer. I never say I am an artist...I am a person who does those things.
It's well we cannot hear the screams we make in other people's dreams.
I really think I write about everyday life. I don't think I'm quite as odd as others say I am. Life is intrinsically, well, boring and dangerous at the same time. At any given moment the floor may open up. Of course, it almost never does; that's what makes it so boring.
If something doesn't creep into a drawing that you're not prepared for, you might as well not have drawn it.
There are so many things we've been brought up to believe that it takes you an awfully long time to realize that they aren't you.
Books, Cats, Life is Good.
If you're doing nonsense it has to be rather awful, because there'd be no point.
There was a young lady named Mae Who smoked without stopping all day; As pack followed pack, Her lungs first turned black, And eventually rotted away.
Vice is nice, but a little virtue won't hurt you.
More is happening out there than we are aware of. It is possibly due to some unknown direful circumstance.
Neither mine nor other people's prospects seem particularly pleasing just at the moment, and I have fantasies of going to Iceland, never to return. As it is, I tell myself not to remember the past, not to hope or fear for the future, and not to think in the present, a comprehensive program that will undoubtedly have very little success.
What is, is, and what might have been could never have existed.
The world may think it idiotic, Nor care at all we're symbiotic, But I will say at once and twice: I find it nice. I find it nice.
I feel that I am doing the minimum amount of damage to other possibilities that may take place in a reader's head.
Z is for Zillah who drank too much gin.
I have given up considering happiness as relevant.
If I do not seem to be mentioning anything I've read lately, it is because I am in one of those periods of undifferentiated flux or something in which I am reading about fifty, at a minimum, books at once, so of course I seldom finish one. Eventually this phase will pass, and I'll discover I have about ten pages to go in all of them, and will sit down and systematically finish them, one after another.
I don't know what it is I'm doing. But it's not that. Despite all evidence to the contrary.
All the things you can talk about in anyone's work are the things that are least important.
Not everything in life can be interpreted metaphorically; that's because things fall out on the way.
I've never had any intentions about anything. That's why I am where I am today, which is neither here nor there, in a literal sense.
I should like a parsley sandwich. To the best of my knowledge they are not in season.
...my least favorite actress of all time, Helena Bonham Carter. I find her lack of a neck very off-putting and especially her acting.
Having got into bed and turned out the light, I quietly burst into tears because I am not a good person. As they came and went for some minutes, I was concerned with the words following 'because' in the previous sentence, rewriting them over and over in my head until they seemed to be as close to the truth as it was possible for me to make them.