But to tell the truth (to tell the truth!) I never have been particularly resolute, I mean to give resolutions, but rather inclined to plunge headlong into the shit, without knowing who was shitting against whom or on which side I had the better chance of skulking with success. But from this learning too I derived scant satisfaction and if I never quite got rid of it it is not for want of trying. The fact is, it seems, that the most you can hope for is to be a little less, in the end, the creature you were in the beginning and the middle. For I had hardly perfected my plan, in my head, when my bicycle ran over a dog, as subsequently appeared, and fell to the ground, an ineptness all the more unpardonable as the dog, duly leashed, was not out on the road, but on the pavement, docile at it's mistress's heels. Precautions are like resolutions, to be taken with precaution. The lady must have thought she had left nothing to chance, so far as the safety of the dog was concerned, whereas in reality she was setting the whole system of nature at naught, no less surely than I myself with my insane demands for more light. But instead of grovelling in my turn, invoking my great age and infirmities, I made things worse by trying to run away.
Excerpt from Molloy by Beckett, on the off chance someone might find it as funny as I.