Do you believe in the life to come? Mine was always that.
Dear incomprehension, it's thanks to you I'll be myself, in the end.
But politeness and candour run together, when one is not fitting neither is the other. Then the occasion calls for silence, that frail partition between the ill-concealed and the ill-revealed, the clu...
Estragon: You see, you feel worse when I'm with you. I feel better alone, too.Vladmir: Then why do you always come crawling back?Estragon: I don't know.
فریاد های زده نشده
Was I sleeping, while the others suffered? Am I sleeping now? Tomorrow, when I wake, or think I do, what shall I say of today? That with Estragon my friend, at this place, until the fall of night, I w...
Spend the years of learning squanderingCourage for the years of wanderingThrough a world politely turningFrom the loutishness of learning.
No symbols where none intended.
Memory and Habit are attributes of the Time cancer. They control the most simple Proustian episode, and an understanding of their mechanism must precede any particular analysis of their application.
I was merely cursing, under my breath, God and man, under my breath, and the wet Saturday afternoon of my conception.
ESTRAGON: Don't touch me! Don't question me! Don't speak to me! Stay with me!VLADIMIR: Did I ever leave you?ESTRAGON: You let me go.
And what I have, what I am, is enough, was always enough for me, and as far as my dear little sweet little future is concerned I have no qualms, I have a good time coming.
And if ever I'm reduced to looking for a meaning to my life, you never can tell, it's in that old mess I'll stick my nose to begin with, the mess of that poor old uniparous whore and myself the last o...
Estragon: They're too bigVladimir: Perhaps you'll have socks some day
Words are the clothes thoughts wear.
Then I went back into the house and wrote, It is midnight. The rain is beating on the windows. It was not midnight. It was not raining.
One is no longer oneself, on such occasions, and it is painful to be no longer oneself, even more painful if possible than when one is. For when one is one knows what to do to be less so, whereas when...
Old endgame lost of old, play and lose and have done with losing.
Morning is the time to hide. They wake up, hale and hearty, their tongues hanging out for order, beauty and justice, baying for their due. Yes, from eight or nine till noon is the dangerous time. But...
Je suis comme ça. Ou j'oublie tout de suite ou je n'oublie jamais.Samuel BECKETT, En attendant Godot