We are not saints, but we have kept our appointment. How many people can boast as much?
Hold the old holding hand. Hold and be held. Plod on and never recede. Slowly with never a pause plod on and never recede.
If I had the use of my body, I would throw it out the window.
Habit is a great deadener.
Don’t wait to be hunted to hide, that was always my motto.
Decidedly it will never have been given to me to finish anything, except perhaps breathing. One must not be greedy.
Light black. From pole to pole.
Unhappy, but not unhappy enough.
We lose our hair, our teeth! Our bloom, our ideals.
Where am I, I don’t know, I’ll never know, in the silence, in the silence you don’t know, you must go on, I can’t go on, I’ll go on.
I say me, knowing all the while it’s not me.
I could not have gone through the awful wretched mess of life without having left a stain upon the silence.
To-morrow, when I wake, or think I do, what shall I say of to-day?
Do you always believe in the life to come? Mine was always that.
How time flies when one has fun!
All mankind is us, whether we like it or not.
That desert of loneliness and recrimination that men call love.
I know those little phrases that seem so innocuous, and, once you let them in, pollute the whole of speech. ‘Nothing is more real than nothing.’ They rise up out of the pit and know no rest until they drag you down into its dark.
What are we doing here, that is the question. And we are blessed in this, that we happen to know the answer. Yes, in the immense confusion one thing alone is clear. We are waiting for Godot to come.
There’s no lack of void.