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“Seven Ages: first puking and mewling
Then very pissed-off with your schooling
Then fucks, and then fights
Next judging chaps' rights
Then sitting in slippers: then drooling.”
― Robert Conquest

“You did not fear death. You stepped in its path, but without really desiring it: how can one desire something one doesn’t know? You didn’t deny life but affirmed your taste for the unknown, betting that if something existed on the other side, it would be better than here.”
― Edouard Levé, Suicide

“Kilgore Trout once wrote a short story which was a dialogue between two pieces of yeast. They were discussing the possible purposes of life as they ate sugar and suffocated in their own excrement. Because of their limited intelligence, they never came close to guessing that they were making champagne.”
― Kurt Vonnegut, Breakfast of Champions

“If you want to really hurt you parents, and you don't have the nerve to be gay, the least you can do is go into the arts. I'm not kidding. The arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable. Practicing an art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven's sake. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possible can. You will get an enormous reward. You will have created something.”
― Kurt Vonnegut, A Man Without a Country

“They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another's throats.

Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don't have any kids yourself.”
― Philip Larkin, High Windows

“I had only a little time left and I didn't want to waste it on God.”
― Albert Camus, ��'É�ٰ����Բ����

“Have you no hope at all? And do you really live with the thought that when you die, you die, and nothing remains?" "Yes," I said.”
― Albert Camus, The Stranger

“On my way out I was even going to shake his hand, but I remembered just in time that I'd killed a man.”
― Albert Camus, The Stranger

“I hope the dogs don't bark tonight. I always think it's mine”
― Albert Camus, The Stranger

“... when one buys a pair of shoes, one is buying three things, the right shoe, the left shoe and the pair.”
― Alfred Jules Ayer, Bertrand Russell

“Time to leave now, get out of this room, go somewhere, anywhere; sharpen this feeling of happiness and freedom, stretch your limbs, fill your eyes, be awake, wider awake, vividly awake in every sense and every pore.”
― Stefan Zweig, The Post-Office Girl

“Come, butterfly
It's late-
We've miles to go together.”
― Basho, On Love and Barley: Haiku of Basho

“Nothing in the cry
of cicadas suggests they
are about to die”
― Matsuo Bashō

“To hell with facts! We need stories!”
― Ken Kesey

“And what did you want? To call myself beloved, to feel myself beloved on the earth.”
― Raymond Carver

“Late Fragment

And did you get what
you wanted from this life, even so?
I did.
And what did you want?
To call myself beloved, to feel myself
beloved on the earth.”
― Raymond Carver, A New Path to the Waterfall

“I am a cigarette with a body attached to it”
― Raymond Carver

“Life, people learned, was not easy. Life was not cake. Life was not a carrot cake.”
― Tao Lin, Bed

“You were said to have died of suffering. But there was not
as much sadness in you as there is now in those who
remember you. You died because you searched for
happiness at the risk of finding the void.”
― Édouard Levé, Suicide

“Since you seldom spoke, you were rarely wrong. You seldom spoke because you seldom went out. If you did go out, you listened and watched. Now, since you no longer speak, you will always be right. In truth, you do still speak: through those, like me, who bring you back to life, and interrogate you. We hear your responses and admire their wisdom. If the facts turned out to contradict your counsel, we blame ourselves for having misinterpreted you. Yours are the truths, ours are the errors.”
― Edouard Levé, Suicide