I could not have gone through the awful wretched mess of life without having left a stain upon the silence.

Dear incomprehension, it's thanks to you I'll be myself, in the end.

Yes, in my life, since we must call it so, there were three things, the inability to speak, the inability to be silent, and solitude, that’s what I’ve had to make the best of.

Art has nothing to do with clarity, does not dabble in the clear and does not make clear

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 find a form that accommodates the mess, that is the task of the artist now.

But I was not made for the great light that devours, a dim lamp was all I had been given, and patience without end, to shine it on the empty shadows.