“The hardest thing of all, don’t you think, is not being able to say the word that’s coming.”

“What word?”

“Well, ‘butter,’ for example. Suppose I’m talking to you. I talk, talk, talk. Sentences, nothing but sentences. At a certain moment, I’m about to say ‘butter.’ I suddenly feel it. I was going to say it. I quickly say something else, fortunately. Because when you feel you’re going to say something, a word, ‘butter’ for example, even if you realize it just before saying it, your head was full of it beforehand willy-nilly. Your head was full of butter. You had to talk, talk, talk so that suddenly you could say ‘butter.’ But if you say it, hey presto, your head’s empty again, and you don’t know what to say next. It’s terrible when, what’s more, you realise that the person you’re talking to already knows that you’re going to say ‘butter’ or she is also thinking about it. Because then her head is also emmptied the moment you say ‘butter’ and you both stand there not knowing what to say next.”

[from Mahu, or, The Material by Robert Pinget]

“No more butter, Eugénie. You’ve already used up a whole half pound this month.”

“But, Father . . . the butter for Charles’s éclair!”

“Butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter butter”

[from “Eugénie Grandet” by Donald Barthelme]