For want of a nail the shoe was lost, For want of a shoe the horse was lost, For want of a horse the rider was lost, For want of rider the battle was lost, For want of a battle the kingdom was lost, And all for the want of a horseshoe nail.
There was an old woman Tossed up in a basket, Seventeen times as high as the moon ; Where she was going I couldn't but ask her, For in her hand she carried a broom. Old woman, old woman, old woman, Quoth I, Where are you going up so high ? To brush the cobwebs of the sky ! May I go with you ? Yes, by-and-by.
Tweedledum and Tweedledee Agreed to have a battle, For Tweedledum said Tweedledee Had spoiled his nice new rattle. Just then flew by a moustrous crow, As big as a tan barrel, Which frightened both the heroes so, They quite forgot their quarrel.
"Il n'y a pas besoin de langage entre un homme et une femme. Mais celle-ci, ce n'est pas une parole qui lui manque. C'est d'être. Ce n'est pas une femme, c'est l'absence. Inutile de lui sourire. Elle est ailleurs, elle est l'ailleurs, la fin muette de la nuit..."