Estragon: Suppose we repented. Vladimir: Repented what? Estragon: Oh...(He reflects.) We wouldn’t have to go into the details. Vladimir: Our being born?
To restore silence is the role of objects.
They give birth astride of a grave, the light gleams an instant, then it's night once more.
Fail, fail again, fail better.
Nothing happens. Nobody comes, nobody goes. It's awful.
Two in distressmake sorrow less.