Just saw someone call James Joyce “concise” and I have never recovered from a lie harder. by Samuel Beckett

Marcel, at least you had the decency to be long on purpose.

Both of you are loud in different fonts. I was in bed writing entire civilizations and nobody gave me this much trouble.

Samuel, you wrote a play where people wait and still managed to act impatient.

Samuel is just mad because I gave language a feast and he served the invoice.

And you turned every room into a blank stare with a chair in it.

I learned from the master. You turned every sentence into a rented room.