I was out of sorts. They are deep, my sorts, a deep ditch, and I am not often out of them. - Samuel Beckett

Let me tell you this, when social workers offer you, free, gratis and for nothing, something to hinder you from swooning, which with them is an obsession, it is useless to recoil, they will pursue you to the ends of the earth, the vomitory in their hands. The Salvation Army is no better. Against the charitable gesture there is no defence, that I know of. You sink your head, you put out your hands all trembling and twined together and you say, Thank you, thank you lady, thank you kind lady. To him who has nothing it is forbidden not to relish filth.

If there is one question I dread, to which I have never been able to invent a satisfactory reply, it is the question what am I doing.

So all things limp together for the only possible.