“It all comes down to nothing…”

“You don't look back along time but down through it, like water. Sometimes this comes to the surface, sometimes that, sometimes nothing. Nothing goes away.”

“It all comes down to who's by your side.”

“Red rain is coming down.
Red rain.
Red rain is pouring down,
Pouring down all over me.”

“Come all without, come all within,
You'll not see nothing like the mighty Quinn.”

“The flies go up the window,
They've nothing else to do,
They go up in their hundreds
And they come down two by two.”

“The long blue days, for his head, for his side, and the little paths for his feet, and all the brightness to touch and gather. Through the grass the little mosspaths, bony with old roots, and the trees sticking up, and the flowers sticking up, and the fruit hanging down, and the white exhausted butterflies, and the birds never the same darting all day long into hiding. And all the sounds, meaning nothing. Then at night rest in the quiet house, there are no roads, no streets any more, you lie down by a window opening on refuge, the little sounds come that demand nothing, ordain nothing, explain nothing, propound nothing, and the short necessary night is soon ended, and the sky blue again all over the secret places where nobody ever comes, the secret places never the same, but always simple and indifferent, always mere places, sites of a stirring beyond coming and going, of a being so light and free that it is as the being of nothing.”

“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”

“Avoid all controversy in preaching, talking, or writing; preach nothing down but the devil, and nothing up but Jesus Christ.”

“When you come right down to it, the secret of having it all is loving it all.”