A thousand little things to report, very strange, in view of my situation, if I interpret them correctly. But my notes have a curious tendency, as I realize at last, to annihilate all they purport to record. So I hasten to turn aside from this extraordinary heat, to mention only it, which has seized on certain parts of my economy, I will not specify which. And to think I was expecting rather to grow cold, if anything!
(It's better to create than destroy what's unnecessary)
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Malone Dies - pg. 70
Labels: Samuel Beckett
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