Nobel Laureate Harold Pinter passed away yesterday from cancer. He was 78. Some words from a legend:
Good writing excites me, and makes life worth living.
Apart from the known and the unknown, what else is there?
Occasionally it does hit me, the words on a page. And I still love doing that, as I have for the last 60 years.
One way of looking at speech is to say it is a constant stratagem to cover nakedness.
I don’t intend to simply go away and write my plays and be a good boy. I intend to remain an independent and political intelligence in my own right.
There are no hard distinctions between what is real and what is unreal, nor between what is true and what is false. A thing is not necessarily either true or false; it can be both true and false.
This particular nurse said, Cancer cells are those which have forgotten how to die. I was so struck by this statement.
I ought not to speak about the dead because the dead are all over the place.