Nothing But Disaster Follows From Applause.

All Of Living Is Nothing But A Fervid Attempt To Move Closer Together.

Everyone, He Went On, Speaks A Language He Does Not Understand, But Which Now And Then Is Understood By Others. That Is Enough To Permit One To Exist And At Least To Be Misunderstood.

What Can You Do. You Get A Name, You're Called 'thomas Bernhard', And It Stays That Way For The Rest Of Your Life. And If At Some Point You Go For A Walk In The Woods, And Someone Takes A Photo Of You, Then For The Next Eighty Years You're Always Walking In The Woods. There's Nothing You Can Do About It.

I Avoid Literature Whenever Possible, Because Whenever Possible I Avoid Myself.

The Thinking Man Always Finds Himself In A Gigantic Orphanage In Which People Are Continually Proving To Him That He Has No Parents.