Watt's concern, deep as it appeared, was not after all what the figure was, in reality, but with what the figure appeared to be, in reality.

Estragon: Nothing to be done.

Memories are killing. So you must not think of certain things, of those that are dear to you, or rather you must think of them, for if you don’t there is the danger of finding them, in your mind, little by little.

There's man all over for you, blaming on his boots the fault of his feet.

We all are born mad. Some remain so.

All poetry, as discriminated from the various paradigms of prosody, is prayer.

I have always been amazed at my contemporaries’ lack of finesse, I whose soul writhed from morning to night, in the mere quest of itself.