2017年6月17日土曜日

Quotes 2017 #168

"Singing. Waiting she sang. I turned her music. Full voice of perfume of what perfume does your liractrees. Bosom I saw, both full, throat warbling. First I saw. She thanked me. Why did she me? Fate. Spanishy eyes." (Ulysses)

It seems pretty obvious to me that Beckett comes from this style.