I pause to record that I feel in extraordinary form. Delirium perhaps. - Samuel Beckett

My life, my life, now I speak of it as of something over, now as of a joke which still goes on, and it is neither, for at the same time it is over and it goes on, and is there any tense for that? Watch wound and buried by the watchmaker, before he died, whose ruined works will one day speak of God, to the worms.

The search for the means to put an end to things, an end to speech, is what enables the discourse to continue.

There are two moments worthwhile in writing, the one when you start and the other when you throw it in the waste-paper basket.