EMIL CIORAN In every man sleeps a prophet, and when he wakes there is a little more evil in the world.
Saturday, March 21, 2020
SAMUEL BECKETT Molloy
then I should be sorry to give a wrong idea of my health which, if it
was not exactly rude, to the extent of my bursting with it, was at
bottom of an incredible robustness. For otherwise how could I have
reached the enormous age I have reached. Thanks to moral qualities?
Hygienic habits? Fresh air? Starvation? Lack of sleep? Solitude?
Persecution? The long silent screams (dangerous to scream)? The daily
longing for the earth to swallow me up? Come come. Fate is rancorous,
but not to that extent.