Where I am, I don't know, I'll never know, in the silence you don't know, you must go on, I can't go on, I'll go on.
Vladimir That passed the time. Estragon It would have passed in any case. Vladimir Yes, but not so rapidly.
Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try Again. Fail again. Fail better.
I have my faults, but changing my tune is not one of them.
Enough of acting the infant who has been told so often how he was found under a cabbage that in the end he remembers the exact spot in the garden and the kind of life he led there before joining the family circle
What do I know of man's destiny? I could tell you more about radishes.
Go on failing. Go on. Only next time, try to fail better.
Try again. Fail again. Fail better.
Habit is a great deadener.
I missed you.. And at the same time I was happy. Isn't that a queer thing?
All I know is what the words know, and dead things, and that makes a handsome little sum, with a beginning and a middle and an end, as in the well-built phrase and the long sonata of the dead.
The tears of the world are a constant quality. For each one who begins to weep, somewhere else another stops. The same is true of the laugh.
Every word is like an unnecessary stain on silence and nothingness
We are all born mad. Some remain so.
Words are all we have.