Let's go." "We can't." "Why not?" "We're waiting for Godot.

The end of a life is always vivifying.

To think, when one is no longer young, when one is not yet old, that one is no longer young, that one is not yet old, that is perhaps something.

Yes, there is no denying it, any longer, it is not you who are dead, but all the others. So you get up and go to your mother, who thinks she is alive. That's my impression. But now I shall have to get myself out of this ditch. How joyfully I would vanish here, sinking deeper and deeper under the rains.

Imagination at wit's end spreads its sad wings.

You cried for night - it falls. Now cry in darkness.

Enough to know no knowing.