We Spend Our Life, It's

The Whisky Bears A Grudge Against The Decanter.

I Speak For An Art ... Weary Of Its Puny Exploits, Weary Of Pretending To Be Able, Of Being Able, Of Doing A Little Better The Same Old Thing, Of Going A Little Further Along A Dreary Road.

That's The Mistake I Made, One Of The Mistakes, To Have Wanted A Story For Myself, Whereas Life Alone Is Enough.

Nothing Is Funnier Than Unhappiness.

The Day You Die Is Just Like Any Other, Only Shorter.