I Like Reality. It Tastes Like Bread.

Life Is A Child Playing Round Your Feet, A Tool You Hold Firmly In Your Grip, A Bench You Sit Down Upon In The Evening, In Your Garden.

Obligations, Hatreds, Injuries; What Did I Expect My Memories To Be? I Was Forgetting Remorse. Now I Have A Complete Past.

My Wife Was An Opera Singer, You Know. She Bellowed Her Way Through Wagner As A Valkyrie. I Married Her And Made Her Give Up The Theatre, To My Eternal Cost. She Was To Go On Acting For Myself Alone. A Performance At His Own Expense, Lasting For More Than Twenty Years, Tends To Wear Out Your Spectator.

What You Get Free Costs Too Much.

With God, What Is Terrible Is That One Never Knows Whether It's Not Just A Trick Of The Devil.