I Was Cured All Right.

Beckett Does Not Believe In God, Though He Seems To Imply That God Has Committed An Unforgivable Sin By Not Existing.

We Can Destroy What We Have Written, But We Cannot Unwrite It.

The Next Morning I Woke Up At Oh Eight Oh Oh Hours, My Brothers, And As I Still Felt Shagged And Fagged And Fashed And Bashed And My Glazzies Were Stuck Together Real Horrorshow With Sleepglue, I Thought I Would Not Go To School.

Women Thrive On Novelty And Are Easy Meat For The Commerce Of Fashion. Men Prefer Old Pipes And Torn Jackets.

Elgar Is Not Manic Enough To Be Russian, Not Witty Or Pointilliste Enough To Be French, Not Harmonically Simple Enough To Be Italian And Not Stodgy Enough To Be German. We Arrive At His Englishry By Pure Elimination.