Against the charitable gesture there is no defence.
Never but the one matter. The dead and gone. The dying and going. From the word go.
There's something dripping in my head. A heart, a heart in my head.
I lay down across her with my face in her breasts and my hand on her. We lay there without moving. But under us all moved, and moved us, gently, up and down, and from side to side.
All I want to do is sit on my ass and fart and think of Dante.
Vladimir: I don't understand. Estragon: Use your intelligence, can't you? Vladimir uses his intelligence. Vladimir: (finally) I remain in the dark.