Shame on you. Don’t tell me you’ve been married for an hour and you’ve already got eyes for another woman.
It seems to me that our lives are consumed by countless wasting years, but only a few shining moments. I missed mine. Yes is what I should have said. Of course I should have said yes.
Better my right hand should have been cut off. Go know I was setting in motion events that would lead to the ruin of one of the few truly good men I ever met.
Bad days my memory functions no better than an out-of-focus kaleidoscope, but other days me recall is painfully perfect.
I’m rambling again. Wandering off the point. But this is the true story of my wasted life…
Without a doubt, it [Canada] is the land God gave to Cain.
Let me put it this way. Canada is not so much a country as a holding tank filled with the disgruntled progeny of defeated peoples.
In a nutshell, I am not unaware of my failings. Neither am I a stranger to irony.
But the truth is, nothing delights me more than a biography of one of the truly great that proves he or she was an absolute shit.
And what if Miriam and I were never to be reconciled?
Ernst was still in the Eastern Zone, about ninety kilometres from Berlin, when the truck emerged so inexplicably out of nowhere that it seemed to have been created by the rain itself.
Obviously the raven with the unquenchable itch was at it again, playing tricks on the world and its creatures. Once by air, he thought, and now by water.
Actually when it comes to knocking the Canadian cultural scene nobody outdoes Canadians myself included. We are veritable masters of self-deprecation.
Listen your Lordship I’m a respecter of institutions. Even in Paris I remained a Canadian. I puffed hashish but I didn’t inhale.
There are ten commandments right? Well it’s like an exam. You get eight out of ten you’re just about top of the class.
I work every day-or at least I force myself into my office or room. I may get nothing done but you don’t earn bonuses without putting in time. Nothing may come for three months but you don’t earn the fourth without it.
I work every day-or at least I force myself into my office or room. I may get nothing done but you don’t earn bonuses without putting in time. Nothing may come for three months but you don’t get the fourth without it.
Wherever I travel I’m too late. The orgy has moved elsewhere.
I work every day – or at least I force myself into office or room. I may get nothing done but you don’t earn bonuses without putting in time. Nothing may come for three months but you don’t earn the fourth without it.
Fundamentally all writing is about the same thing: it’s about dying about the brief flicker of time we have here and the frustrations that it creates.